Désirer
by Yilena
Summary: For years, Marinette wanted her soulmate to be Chat Noir. A few weeks after she turns eighteen, she's convinced the person she's matched with isn't him. Adrien's a nice guy, but he isn't the one she's pining for. AU.


**AN: **Kimba! I hope this is everything you wanted. I was originally going to include more awkward body swap scenes, but I didn't want to make it too ridiculous. This seemed like a nice amount.

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

"I need another tissue," Marinette complained.

Chloé didn't move from where she was stretched out with her legs over Marinette's lap. "That's nice."

"Like, for real," she said, emphasising it with a loud sniff. "I'm going to die soon."

Chloé's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Good, yes. Please, do that."

Without responding to that, Marinette's shoved Chloé's feet off of her—almost causing Chloé's mug to spill the contents over her—before fetching a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom.

When she'd found out that the two of them had been accepted to the same university, the thought of sharing an apartment hadn't really crossed her mind. Marinette's parents weren't loaded, after all, and she had to apply for a loan, whereas Chloé didn't.

Chloé's parents were more than happy to splurge and spend money on their daughter at any moment's notice, so the original plan had been for Chloé to live alone. That had been until Chloé had extended the offer to her.

The flat was so much nicer than she would've gotten otherwise. Marinette had expected to be in a dorm, not a two bedroom apartment in a good area, paying the same amount of rent as she would've with the other place.

Her parents were pleased that she was living with someone that they could trust.

Marinette didn't trust her in the slightest.

"I'm sick and you're bullying me," she muttered, coming back into the room to sit on one of the two stools in the kitchen, still able to see her friend lounging on the sofa. "Aren't you supposed to be making us dinner?"

Chloé held up her phone. "I ordered already."

"We went shopping _yesterday—_"

"Quit your bitching," Chloé retorted. "Or I'll eat all of it myself."

She stared. "Really?"

"I might." Chloé haughtily raised her chin in the air, but the stuck-up image was ruined by her lounging across the sofa, no sign of modest in sight. "Your parents are still coming tomorrow, yeah?"

Stretching her arms out, Marinette leaned down and rested her head against the countertop. "Yes, they are."

"And you'll absolutely kill me if I throw a party?"

"_Yes_," she groaned out. "I just want a quiet night, okay? They're going to bring some cake over, we're going to stuff our faces, and I don't want to see anyone else's."

Chloé had to ask again. "Are you sure?"

"Having friends is exhausting," was her reply. "I want something small—which means not having dozens of people in here. I'm terrified of a soulmate-thing happening."

Chloé's mature response was to snort. "Pussy."

"We're not all like you, okay?" Marinette shot back. "You got, like, blackout drunk and sobbed into my shoulder because you're an idiot."

With a laugh, Chloé replied, "Sounds like fun, right?"

Without looking at her, Marinette lifted her middle finger up. The countertop was cold against her face, a nice sensation from the heat of the summer, and she really didn't want to move at that moment.

But there was still some belongings she needed to unpack, stuff to organise—anything to keep her mind off of what tomorrow meant for her.

It wouldn't kick in until the time that she was actually born, but even then, it was unknown whether anything would happen to her immediately. There was no gene passed down that would have her have her parents' bond, quirk—whatever the media wanted to call it that year—and it seemed to be a roll of a dice to see what she would end up with.

She really hoped it wasn't something as obscure as sharing pain.

Some were easier while some weren't.

Chloé, for instance, had started to have ink and paint stains appear on her body, but she wasn't able to alter them in any way. It aggravated her when she wore a nice outfit, only for it to be ruined from the splatters of colour all up her arms.

Marinette teased her endlessly about it.

"Who knows," Chloé started the following day, clad in comfy-looking pyjamas and obnoxious slippers, a sight she wouldn't let anyone else see. "Maybe you'll share their body odour or something. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Marinette didn't acknowledge that.

Thankfully, her eighteenth birthday turned out to be a small affair. Her parents came over in the late afternoon, after they'd finished work, with a freshly-made cake and candles. It was the four of them—her, her parents, and Chloé who'd changed into some tight-fitting clothing—but it was more than she could've asked it.

They ordered in for dinner, the second day in a row.

Her mother commented on the large amount of unused vegetables in the fridge.

Marinette's grin was sheepish.

She liked the simple things in life.

After five years of some days being filled with adrenaline, relying on her instincts to fight and outwit another villain—while hurt civilians and destroyed buildings were waiting to be reversed and healed through her final move—Marinette preferred to spend her downtime without much thrills.

From the moment she realised that she'd become the definition of a superhero when she was just thirteen, a lot of things paled in comparison to when she wasn't transformed.

There was only so much she could do normally.

But when she used the magic that was gifted to her in a set of earrings, she was able to use a bandalore to travel across rooftops, jumping higher than she could've ever dreamed to without hurting herself in any way.

She'd fallen off a building before, only for there not to be any bruises.

As soon as she returned to normal, however, that was another story.

It was a bit hard to keep track off sometimes.

Being able to jump down from a pitiful step on an average day paled in comparison to swinging in the air before crashing through a window, or vaulting over the top of buildings, chasing a villain that was leaving destruction in their wake.

Marinette liked to inspect fruit and vegetables at the supermarket, stopping to pet dogs in the street, and making sure her outfits were cute.

There was the odd occasion once or twice a month where a supervillain named Papillon would infect a civilian, causing them to wreak havoc with their altered form, but for the most part, Marinette's life was calm.

The most energy she had around her was Chloé's, and that was usually in the form of off-handed remarks and snotty comments about the people around them, or the food that they were eating.

Over the years, she'd become desensitised to how rude Chloé could come across.

She hoped that her soulmate wouldn't be too offended.

After all, Chloé was one of the only consistent things in her life. Friends came and went through school, but after being in the same class as Chloé since they were still in the single digits, they'd wound up being best friends, regardless of how different they acted together.

It was nice that Chloé always had a different opinion to her.

As such, Chloé thought that the concept of soulmates was ridiculous. It was never clear whether they were romantic or platonic, and when the youngest of the two—always two, never more—turned eighteen, some sort of sign would pop up for the two of them, making it so they would eventually meet.

Some shared pains, others could write on their skin, while some could see anything that their soulmate had touched glow briefly. It was always a clue of sorts, a reassurance that they wouldn't be alone, that someone would be there to understand, whether or not that meant that they would be together in the end.

Sometimes, soulmates tried to date before realising that they were better off as friends, or they never even made it that far at all, sticking to being best friends and enjoying their time together. There was no taboo, no one looking down on others for not having a romantic partner; it was considered a blessing that anyone was there at all.

Because while the youngest could turn eighteen, if the other was dead, nothing would happen.

And, sometimes, they didn't realise that for years, simply thinking that it was something too small to catch.

For Chloé, it was only the accidental things on her skin that would go through. It wasn't a clear line of communication; she couldn't write on the back of her hand and expect an answer, and neither could the person on the other end.

It was why she hated the splatters of colour even more.

Marinette wondered whether she'd be the youngest.

For the most part, for her group of friends—as small as it may have been—she was usually the youngest, as her birthday was at the end of the school year. It was close to the line of her being in the year below.

Other than Chloé, those closer friends had been accepted to different universities, more than a few hours away. When the first term began, along with their first years, it was unlikely that she'd see them outside of holidays.

She wasn't too sad about that.

When Marinette had gone through the first week after her birthday, expecting something strange to happen, she had to wonder whether she was the oldest. It only triggered when the other was eighteen—considered an adult, able to make their own decisions—and there was always a chance that she'd have a few years until she had to really acknowledge it.

Chloé had to wear long sleeves on their first day of classes, and it made her slam their front door with more force than necessary.

"You're being a child," Marinette accused.

Chloé didn't respond to that.

They weren't in the same classes, but they still walked to campus together. The first few days were hard, as Marinette was awkward when interacting with new people, and she had trouble trying to remember everyone's names.

But her course seemed fine. The professors were kind, understanding, and her class-mates weren't snotty, even with the different age ranges between. Most seemed to be her age or close, while there was the odd few with wrinkles that were only going to be there a few times between jobs.

The first problem she encountered was when there was an attack on the city.

Papillon never appeared in public; rather, he sent out a butterfly that infected someone, causing them to do their dirty work. While it had been going on for years, Marinette and her partner were no closer to finding out who they were.

It seemed that being evil had a time schedule, as it always happened around lunch, late in the afternoon, or the early evening. She never had to wake up at a late hour to go and save the city, sacrificing her sleep in the process.

But while she'd gotten better at fighting, the city had adapted, too. There was a system, alerts that were sent out through phones, and alerts that flashed across television screens—all to make everyone be aware of what could happen.

Of course, all the damage was reversed in the end, but it was still a scary thing to experience.

And while she considered the magic that provided her powers as a blessing, the other was that there being someone else like her. But unlike her red-coloured suit, his was completely black with a couple of accessories that were more appropriate for dressing up than for crime-fighting.

Regardless, the magic helped keep them on.

Chat Noir—as he'd blurted out when asked what he wanted to be called, when they were both young—was reliable, usually appeared the same time she did, and never let her down.

They worked well as a team.

And it translated into them just talking, too.

At her arrival, he leaned on his staff with one arm, raising the other up to salute with a wide grin.

"Hello to you, too," she greeted.

Sometimes, she'd thought about turning eighteen, just for him to turn out to be one for her. It was silly, a passing daydream, but the way she felt when she was around him didn't seem to be a crush. Not when it had been there for years, and only developed further with the time they spent together.

But he was Chat Noir—her partner, best friend, and there was that pessimistic side to her that thought him being her soulmate would've been too much.

"So, how's your day been so far?" he asked, stretching his arms out, as though they were about to start exercising. It didn't matter the amount of running around they did while transformed, as it never caused them to be sore in their everyday life. "Because, I must say, mine's been pretty shit so far."

She hummed. "That bad?"

"Well, first of all," he started, the furious and forced slant of his eyebrows obvious despite the mask in the way. "I spilled coffee all over me this morning, and then I was in the middle of a nap when this happened."

"A _nap_?" Marinette questioned scandalised. "At this time?"

"I was free," was his defence. "What else was I supposed to do? Something productive? That's never going to happen."

She sniffed. "And here I thought you were someone responsible..."

"My only responsibility is seeing you on an almost bi-weekly basis," he stated.

Marinette wrinkled her nose in distaste. "That wasn't nearly as cute as you thought it was."

"I think I just stole your heart," Chat said, grinning widely.

She didn't tell him that had happened long ago.

It had been odd seeing a tall, skinny boy dressed in a black skintight suit at first. Marinette only knew his age was roughly close to her, so they'd grown up together—the two of them filling out, a relief when the suits moulded to them, adjusting with every growth spurt.

They'd started off almost the same height, but the top of her head barely skimmed his shoulders at that moment.

Chat was very proud of that.

"Don't you think we should..." Marinette trailed off, gesturing to the screaming on the street below.

His sigh was audible. "Fine, cut our time short."

"There, there," she comforted, no real sympathy in her voice as she took a step closer to pat his shoulder. "I'm sure we'll see each other soon."

"Sadly, it's always other people screaming, not you." Chat jutted out his lower lip.

Marinette pushed him off the rooftop for that.

Of course, he wasn't hurt. They couldn't sustain any bruises, not a hair lost when they transformed back, and it was always a bit confusing to try and remember that it wasn't like that all the time. If Marinette had a bruise or an injury before transforming, unfortunately, it was still there afterwards.

It worked that way with colds, too.

Summer had disappeared, turning into falling leaves and far too much wind, and Marinette had pulled out a cardigan to wear to class, the weather not quite bad enough to invest in a coat just yet.

It was when she was walking on the way to campus that she sneezed.

It shouldn't have been a life-changing moment.

Marinette paused on the pavement, face scrunched up as she sneezed, and when she opened her eyes—

She wasn't where she'd been before.

There hadn't been a disorientating feeling, no discomfort in her body, and yet, she was looking at surroundings that were completely different. Startled, she took a step back, almost losing balance in the process, only to look down at her hands and see that they were larger, skin a tiny bit more tanned—

Her chipped nail polish was missing.

Instead, she had long and thin fingers, a hand so much larger than her own, and it seemed that she was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt that had been rolled up to the elbows.

It wasn't her style whatsoever; too simple, too average-looking for her sense of fashion.

Her lips parted silently.

It—the only possible reason was one that she wasn't expecting so soon. It had been a few weeks since her birthday, long enough for her to start to think that she was the oldest of the two of them—but that wasn't the case any longer.

Somehow, the soulmate trait that she'd developed was one of the least common ones.

The body felt unfamiliar, her movements clumsy, and she paused on the street, stepping to the step to allow others to walk past her easily. There was a backpack on one of her shoulders—or his, it was confusing how to refer to it all at that moment—and with a bit of fumbling, she found a phone in his pocket.

She didn't have the code to unlock it, of course.

And Marinette didn't know her number off by heart.

It was a disaster.

She looked around, heart beating nervously in her chest, trying to see whether she recognised the area around her. The street wasn't one that was familiar, but that wasn't saying much when she'd only moved into the area recently for school.

So, for lack of better things to do, Marinette sat on the wall beside her—which she usually would've had trouble with, but not in the taller body—and held his phone out, inspecting the case that was covered in scratches, along with the picture he had as his background.

It was a character from a game.

She recognised that, at least.

The lack of a passcode made it so she couldn't make it into his files, but she could swipe to the side and access the camera. She wouldn't be able to look at the actual pictures taken before—or even what she took at that moment—but she could make it so the camera was facing her.

She swallowed.

And he—

He wasn't anyone that she recognised.

Smooth skin, blond-coloured hair that matched his eyelashes, so it clearly wasn't dyed, green eyes, and lips that were close to being chapped.

It was strange to see such a body responding to her movements, adopting her mannerisms; from blinking slowly, gnawing on the inside of her cheek, and generally doing anything that she wished.

He wasn't bad-looking.

That was an understatement.

But rather than tilting the camera to get a better look at him—to see from another view from just looking down and seeing his lack of chest—she locked the phone again, running a hand over her face, trying to calm down.

She didn't have to worry about smearing her make-up.

It wasn't that she felt completely different; there wasn't any pain, nothing glaringly wrong with the body, but her movements were off. It could've been the height difference that was becoming more and more obvious with every passing moment, or that she wasn't used to her sudden strength and body's weight, unable to properly calculate what she was doing.

It felt like she'd had too much to drink, really.

She didn't even know Chloé's number off by heart.

If it was to happen again—body swaps tended to do, in their rare recorded cases—she wanted to be able to contact someone, just so they'd be there for her.

As it turned out, someone did come along.

"Man, there you are!" she heard, but it didn't make her look up from where she was turning her hand over, inspecting the new body part. "You all right?"

It was only when someone came to stand in front of her that she snapped her head up, wide-eyed.

It was a male, one with spectacles and a wide and friendly smile, clearly meaning her no harm.

He looked vaguely familiar.

Marinette felt her throat growing tight, eyes starting to feel uncomfortable and itchy as she realised that there was someone there for her.

"I—" Marinette started, but it came out as a sob instead.

Even such a small snippet of his voice sounded weird, not at all like her own. It was to be expected, of course, but she just—

She hadn't thought it would happen, that was all.

She was far too overwhelmed.

The newcomer looked at her weirdly, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. "What's up, Adrien?"

"Adrien?" she parroted, voice higher-pitched from her panic. "That's—that's his name?"

"Eh?" was all that came from him.

"I'm not—I'm his soulmate," Marinette babbled, reaching up and trying to tuck her hair behind her ear, only to realise that it was too short.

The hand fell back down by her side.

"Oh, fuck," was the response to that, but it didn't sound negative. If anything, the tone was excited. "For real? Yeah?"

"Yes?" It came out sounding like a question. "I was just—I was walking to class when—"

And as she looked at Adrien's friend—for that had to be what he was—and really took in his features, she realised why he looked familiar.

"You're—" Marinette started, jumping down from the wall, almost falling over from the landing, before pointing a finger in his direction. "You're in one of my classes! That means I'm—_you're_—"

"I am?" he questioned, surprised. "What's your name?"

She didn't have a jacket on, even though the weather was starting to get colder. "Marinette," she stated.

He pulled a face. "Not really ringing a bell."

"What's yours?" she asked, latching onto him for information.

"Nino," he stated, holding out a tanned hand for her to shake. "Can't say I know everyone's names in my classes. Maybe I'll recognise your face, who knows?"

And as she nervously shook his hand, she questioned, "...You're not asking me to describe myself, are you?"

Nino grinned. "Maybe?"

"Do you have your phone?" she asked. "Because I can't get into his, and I—"

He was more than happy to fish it out of his pocket, unlocking the screen and holding it out for her. "No data, though. I've got a few minutes left if you want to call yours."

There went the plan of loading up her social media, then.

She sighed. "I don't know my number."

"Honestly, same," he said, sympathising. "You were walking to class before, yeah? You—I mean, Adrien goes to this university, too, so maybe he'll be waiting? Did you have a friend with you or anything?"

Shaking her head, Marinette replied, "It's her day off."

"Damn," he muttered. "Well, our best bet's going to campus, don't you think?"

"I guess," she reluctantly agreed.

"Do you—" Nino started, gaze flickering between his hands and her. "Do you, like, need help or anything? Can you _walk_?"

As it turned out, she could. Marinette had to pay extra attention to her steps, perhaps walking slower than she usually would, but she couldn't really tell when there was a difference in the length of their legs. Did that mean he was stepping _further_?

It was a bit confusing to think about.

She really wished she had a jacket.

And when she muttered that thought, Nino laughed aloud.

"Yeah, he's a bit of an idiot," he revealed.

"Can you..." Marinette started, trailing off shyly. "Can you tell me about him?"

Nino smiled at her. "Yeah, of course. I can absolutely do that."

By the time they made it onto campus, she'd found out that Adrien and Nino had grown up together, had attended the same schools since primary, and that they'd almost always gotten along. Adrien was almost a year older than her, but it meant that they would've been in the same classes growing up.

The difference wasn't big.

If anything, she'd really expected to be the older one after the few weeks that had passed.

There wasn't any sign of her standing outside.

It would've been weird, though, wouldn't it? But Marinette knew what outfit she'd picked—she'd been so excited that she could wear her cardigan and match it with her beret—but seeing it from someone else's eyes wasn't anything she'd ever expected.

She was glad that she always put effort into her appearance.

When she was Marinette, not transformed and stuck in the same magical outfit and hairstyle, she wanted to express herself; to wear the things that she wanted, to style and stand out in her own way.

It didn't matter than no one gave her a second glance when she stood beside merchandise of her own self as a superhero.

Magic was a wonderful thing.

Nino had to admit that he didn't know what classes Adrien had.

He offered to stay with her, to skip his own and make sure that she was okay, but Marinette eventually convinced him that she'd wait in the library for him to be done. Nino only had two classes that day, so he'd be finished by noon, but that didn't mean that he should miss them for her.

The offer was sweet, though.

It was clear that he really cared about Adrien to offer her that.

Although the new body felt awkward to her, Marinette managed to find a book she needed for one of her classes, along with a a notebook and pen in his backpack. The pages were barely filled, but his writing was curly, neat, and looked completely different to hers.

It looked nice.

There wasn't much she could learn about him from the notebook; he'd doodled along some of it, his notes from classes small and not at all in-depth, but knowing that it was her soulmate's writing was strange.

There wasn't anything to say that they were destined for each other. They could have a successful relationship, be good friends, or be nothing at all. There was nothing saying that they _had_ to keep in contact—there was just a very strong chance that they'd get along.

Not all soulmates still liked each other.

On one page, she wrote out her personal information.

Well, as much as she could remember, so it didn't include her phone number. She did put down her social media accounts, where she lived, and that she shared a class with Nino.

Then, she put his phone on the table, just in case any calls came through for him, or if Nino tried to contact her, before flipping through the book, scribbling down the notes that she thought she needed.

It was good to be distracted.

The desk she was sat at had a good view of the entrance, so she did keep lifting her head up to spy who was walking through the door, just trying to see whether she could spot herself.

And wasn't that weird to think about?

But her outfit hadn't wouldn't blend in with everyone else's easily, and she _knew_ what she looked like—

That was until she actually walked in.

The beret was missing, her braids looked messier than before from being tugged at, and it was so _strange_ to see how her face looked when it turned from side-to-side, inspecting the area.

It took her a while to realise what she was looking at.

Then, he was looking at her, lips parting but no sound escaping, and she had to wonder whether that was what she looked like what she did that, too.

Adrien came to stand in front of her, speechless.

"Hi?" she tried, but it came out sounding kind of strangled. "I mean, hi. Adrien, right?"

"I—yes," he stuttered out.

Did her voice always sound like that?

It didn't—it didn't sound like that in her head, did it? But she didn't have anything to compare it to at that moment, not when the one she was hearing wasn't even her own as she tried to sort out her thoughts.

Her hands felt clammy from all the confusion.

Adrien fumbled to sit down in the chair beside her, wide-eyed and clearly not knowing what to say.

She noticed that he'd smudged her make-up.

"I didn't know where to go," he blurted out, fiddling with her cardigan to pull it down over one hand. "I—I'm sorry if you had something important today? I couldn't figure out your passcode or anything, so I was going to come here until I could find a friend and, like, freak out or something."

It seemed he had the same habit as her of rambling.

It was a little amusing.

"I bumped into Nino," Marinette said. "He said he'd come here after classes, so I was killing time."

"Nino," he repeated, stumped. "Right."

"I'm—" Marinette started, feeling ridiculous as she looked into her own blue-coloured eyes. "I'm Marinette, by the way."

She could hear it as he took in a breath. "Adrien."

"Yes, I know," she couldn't help but say, smiling. "Your friend was pretty helpful."

"That's—that's good," he stuttered out, reaching up and running a hand through her hair. The braids just became a bit frizzier from his touches. "I'm sorry, I just—I'm still shocked. I don't know what to say."

Trying to make it easier for the both of them, she quipped, "How about hi?"

And he actually laughed at that. "Yeah, that's good," he said, slightly breathy from his laughter. "Hi, Marinette."

"Hello," she greeted right back.

It was very apparent that he wasn't accustomed to wearing a skirt from how he was shifting on the seat, trying to adjust the fabric. "How long ago was your birthday?"

"A few weeks," she admitted. "I was starting to think that I was the older one, but apparently not."

"Yeah—" Adrien had started, but cut himself off with a sneeze.

It was like she blinked and she was suddenly in a different place.

There was no uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, no dizziness and not knowing where she was; rather, if they'd both been staring at the same thing, she doubted she would've noticed that they'd switched back at all.

But she was on the other chair, looking up at him.

Even when sitting down, she could tell there was a height difference there.

And actually seeing him, not just looking in the front view of his phone's camera, was such a different experience. The surprise was there on his expression as he realised what had happened, reaching up a hand to touch his cheek, before staring down at his hand in wonder.

"...I really hope it's not sneezing," Marinette whispered.

"Did you sneeze before?" Adrien asked. "The first time?"

And hearing his voice when it wasn't inside her head was even stranger.

She swallowed. "Yes."

"Well, can't say I've heard that one before," he mused. "But it—it should fade when we spend more time together, right?"

"I assume so," she answered. "It does for everyone else."

If soulmates were stuck with their traits forever, it would've been such an inconvenience for some people. There wasn't a consistent report of how long soulmates had to spend together to cause the effects to fade until they were completely gone, but it happened with everyone without exceptions.

Sniffing, Marinette reached up and ran a finger underneath her eye, remembering that he'd caused her make-up to become smudged before.

And as if that had caused his attention to go to there, he blurted out, "You're really pretty."

Marinette couldn't help but laugh. "Thank you?"

"I mean, you really are," Adrien babbled, turning his body to face her properly. "But, like, I couldn't really tell before?"

"No need to charm me," she replied. "We're going to be stuck with each other for a while."

"Right." His tongue darted out to lick his lips. "Are you—sorry, I'm really awkward. I just want to know... can I have your number?"

Rather than reply to that, Marinette turned his attention to the notebook on the table, turning the pages to flip back to the one she'd scribbled all her details on. She put her bag onto the table and rummaged through it for her phone, bringing up her contact list to add her number to his notebook.

"Oh," he breathed. "That's—yeah. Thank you."

Adrien gave her his, and she sent a generic message to make sure it was right.

There was silence for a bit, the two of them simply looking at each other.

Marinette cracked a smile first.

Adrien returned it shyly. "You haven't got a class to run off to, have you?"

"Maybe," she answered, fiddling with her bag again, seeing that her beret was stuffed in there. "Not for a while, no. Unless you have to go?"

He shook his head. "Not yet."

"Then... do you want to go somewhere else?" Marinette hesitantly asked. "As in, coffee?"

"That sounds good," Adrien said.

And as they walked towards the nearest coffee-shop that wasn't the on-campus café, Marinette smoothed out her hair, tucking some of the stray strands into the braids, trying to make it look more presentable.

Adrien told her the basics that Nino hadn't been able to tell her: that he was living in an apartment near the university, enjoyed playing video games, and that he had a sudden new favourite television show that she'd only seen one episode of.

When they went into the coffee-shop, he surprised her by paying her for drink. Marinette didn't make too much of a fuss of it, thanking him instead and saying that she'll buy the next one, and it was worth it to see the way his smile reached his eyes.

She didn't feel uncomfortable with him.

Marinette interacted with a lot of strangers when she had a magical mask on, but when it was in her everyday life, she was more reserved. She liked to spend time alone, didn't bother filling every passing moment with conversation, and tended to find making friends hard.

She hadn't told Chloé what had happened yet, as Chloé would call and demand to know everything, interrupting her time with Adrien.

And so, instead, Marinette held the warm mug with two hands, sitting at a low table with Adrien across from her, the two of them comparing hobbies. They kept the topics light; the two of them bonding over games that they currently played, what things they had in common, and what music they liked.

They had a lot in common.

And she never felt tense, not even when he accidentally kicked her when trying to move his leg to get more comfortable. The low table and armchair made it difficult for him to fit his long limbs in properly, and even Marinette had to admit that it was awkward for her.

"I felt like I was drunk when I was walking as you," she admitted.

He laughed. "That bad?"

"Your legs are long," Marinette pointed out.

With a smile, he said, "Compared to yours, maybe."

"Adrien," she started. "You're, like, taller than most of the people in here right now."

He waved a hand dismissively. "You don't know that."

She snorted. "I have eyes, thank you."

"You do," he agreed, thoughtful. "And they're pretty, too."

Her face felt a bit warm at that. "I'm already here with you. No need to compliment me, remember?"

"But I want to," Adrien said, utterly sincere. "You're—I'm so lucky to have met you, and I want you to know that."

It was what she was thinking, but she was far too shy to say that aloud. And yet, Adrien was keeping eye contact with her, even though the top of his ears had started to turn red.

"Thank you," she whispered, clearing her throat afterwards. "I—I'm really glad I met you. Sorry I kept you from your classes, though."

He laughed. "I'd take you over classes any day."

"You barely know me," Marinette replied.

"But I'd like to," he answered. "If you'll let me."

Her smile wasn't forced in the slightest. "I—yes," she said. "Please."

Adrien smiled right back at her.

It didn't squash that small feeling of disappointment.

-x-

Chloé was livid.

Well, that wasn't really the right choice of words.

Chloé was openly jealous and didn't hold back from making comments about all of it. When Marinette first told her, Chloé's first reaction had been to throw a pillow at her.

It made her laugh.

Marinette had parted ways with Adrien to go to class, receiving a text from him some minutes later saying that he was glad to meet her once more, and her cheeks were hurting from smiling all that time when she'd sat down for the lesson.

The texts didn't stop.

They lived in opposite directions from the campus, so they didn't plan to walk together, but they did share their schedules, trying to find a good compromise to spend enough time to stop the body swapping.

But the sun was starting to set earlier and Marinette didn't really want to try and make her way through the streets in the dark, not when she barely knew them.

And so, they agreed to meet up for lunch the following day as the timing matched up well.

She didn't sneeze before then.

Before her class, she did text him to say that she was completely over her cold—there no lingering cough that she couldn't quite shake any more.

She hadn't expected for him to respond solely in emojis.

Adrien was easy to spot amongst the crowd of students. The combination of his height and his blond hair was what gave him away, and she felt flattered when a smile stretched across his lips when he caught sight of her.

"I—hi," he stuttered out, fiddling with the strap of his bag. "You're earlier than I thought you'd be."

"I'm not that early, am I?" she questioned, bringing out her phone to check. "I'm on time!"

Adrien smiled at that. "I was going to get you something, but I have no idea what you like."

"Thanks for the thought," she replied.

The café on the campus wasn't the best, but it wasn't awful. After buying their food, they found a table near the window, one that wasn't quite as low as the day before, and settled down.

"So," Adrien started, breaking the short silence after he'd taken a sip of his drink. "What are your feelings on cats?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Because I want to get one," he explained. "And if you're allergic, it would be really helpful to know—for the future. If you want to be in it, I mean."

"Oh," she said. "I—I like them? I've never had a pet."

Leaning across the table, Adrien whispered like he was telling her a big secret. "I was never allowed one growing up, but my father can't stop me now, can he?"

"I don't know," she started. "Can he?"

He laughed. "No, he cannot."

There wasn't a clear indication on whether it was a touchy subject for him or not. Through text, they'd avoiding talking too much about their families, keeping the topics light.

That day, it seemed he had no boundaries for it, though.

"But maybe it's not a smart idea," Adrien admitted, deflating and leaning back in the chair. "I won't be home too often, right? I should wait a bit more."

There wasn't really any chance for her to reply.

"I did have a goldfish, once," he announced, sitting right back up. "Well, two. But I came home from school one day and only had one left in the tank."

Slowly, she answered, "...Okay?"

Adrien nodded his head, seeming to agreed. "But then I went to the bathroom, and I saw it just—swimming around in the toilet? It turned out my father changed the water. I don't know whether he couldn't be bothered to pick the goldfish back up or if he's careless."

It was clear that he wanted to talk about his father, then.

"Was your fish okay?" was all she could ask.

"Oh, yes," Adrien confirmed. "Absolutely. Fished the little thing out and he had a good life for a while. That was probably the most excitement it ever had."

"Okay," she said.

"Sorry." Adrien ran a hand through his hair. "I kind of—I didn't really sleep last night? So, I had some energy drinks before you came, but the sugar tends to go to my head. You can tell me to shut up, really, I don't mind."

At least she'd been given an explanation to the sudden confessions.

"It's fine," Marinette assured him, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "I admit I'm being more... shy? But I don't really reach for the sugar to get me to talk."

He winced. "A good choice."

"Do you have many classes later?" she asked.

"One," Adrien replied. "Then, I'll probably go home and try and nap or something."

She remarked, "That's a good idea."

While it was mostly Adrien talking, and blurting out random facts about himself that weren't coming up naturally in the conversation at all, she wasn't irked about it. He was still asking about her, trying to relate their experiences, and she was more than happy to listen to him go off on a tangent about a ridiculous story that she couldn't have predicted from his opening sentence at all.

The meeting that second day proved two things: that while she was nervous to see him, he didn't make her feel awkward or make any rude comments, and that she still liked him when he'd had too much sugar.

The last one was definitely important.

When they parted ways, it was barely a few minutes later when she got a text from him, saying that it was lovely to see her again.

Adrien was—Adrien was nice, that was a good way to put it.

But he wasn't the type that would make a stupid comment to try and get a laugh out of her while in the middle of a fight, let alone one that would sit on a rooftop with her in the late hours of the evening, savouring any little bit of time that they could have together.

She barely knew Adrien, but he was her soulmate for a reason, wasn't he?

And although she'd like to have another close friend, she doubted that he would be able to compare to Chloé any time soon.

Chloé was still annoyed with the development.

"This is bullshit," Chloé muttered, going as far as to press her face against the countertop where she was sat on a stool. "You're supposed to be the unlucky one here, not me."

She choked out a laugh. "You sure about that?"

"Fuck off," Chloé snapped. "It's unfair that you already have, like, weird voodoo magic or whatever. You can't get the soulmate as well, that's _greedy_."

"Maybe I deserve it," Marinette gloated. "I have been a good girl, after all."

Chloé snorted. "I'm sure."

"Better than you," she shot back.

"Weak," Chloé remarked.

It was probably a good thing that Chloé didn't want to meet Adrien immediately. She was always straightforward and didn't think about her comments before she said them, and it led to a lot of people misunderstanding her—well, not that there was a lot to misunderstand.

And if that meant telling someone their shoes were ugly, she was going to do it.

Marinette wasn't quite ready for that between her best friend and soulmate.

"Hey," Chloé called, trying to get her attention. Then, as Marinette favoured her laptop over responding to her, Chloé scoffed. "Excuse you, I'm trying to do you a favour here."

A bit amused, Marinette asked, "Oh, are you?"

"Of course, babe." The petname made her seem all the more insincere. "Now, I'd like to bring this to your attention."

With those words, Marinette sighed and stood up, knowing that Chloé wasn't going to close the short distance between them. Chloé's phone was unlocked, held out for her to see, and when she saw the title of the article that she'd clicked on, Marinette pretended to gag.

"Fucking really?"

"It's not pedophilia any more, is it?" was Chloé's response. "It's a good ego boost to see people thirsting over you online."

Marinette grimaced. "I really don't want see people writing sonnets about my ass, thanks."

While she had turned eighteen only a few weeks ago, the public had been speculating her age as Ladybug for years. It had turned from a few pictures of her and Chat Noir standing side-by-side, to showing how they'd grown and changed throughout the years—so, of course, there were always creeps.

Chloé's expression turned mischievous. "Because you've already got Chat Noir reciting his own?"

"I love you too much to push you," she replied.

Chloé smiled wider. "That's not a denial."

"And it's not a confirmation," she retorted. "It's dumb, that's what it is."

Chloé hummed.

She put her hands on her hips. "For the last time, Chat does not write poetry about my ass."

"Well, I sure do have a whole folder of pictures of him staring at it," Chloé remarked, lifting her hand up and proceeding to inspect her nails, as though the topic of conversation was below her. "Don't you think you should check whether you want Adrien's dick so you can run off into the sunset with Chat Noir?"

Flustered, she said, "I'm not even going to answer that."

"Actions speak louder than words—"

"You have _no_ right to try and give me advice here," Marinette proclaimed, jabbing a finger in her friend's direction. "You were literally complaining that you'll be sad and alone forever last night."

Chloé looked at her with raised eyebrows. "I'm over that now."

"I'm so over you," she muttered.

It was more of a demand than a request when Chloé asked, "Can you go over to the fridge and get me a drink instead?"

Marinette threw a can at her instead.

Adrien was out with his friends that night—and had even suggested that she come along, but she felt too awkward for that so soon—so his replies were slow. Chloé had patted the sofa beside her, a silent invitation, and the two of them watched a television show instead.

But when she kept trying to reach for her phone to reply to him, Chloé knocked the device out of her hand, telling her to pay attention to the screen.

It was a little funny.

Adrien wasn't annoyed by it when she explained why she was so slow later on.

Instead, he said that Chloé sounded like she had real character.

That was one way to put it, she supposed.

-x-

The next time they swapped, it was the worst timing possible.

Marinette had been cooking lunch in her apartment, music playing from her phone as she flittered around the kitchen with ease. Chloé didn't have time to come back, but she was sure that she'd made too much, getting out a second bowl to put the leftovers in.

It was when she was adding in seasoning that she sneezed.

It wasn't jarring to be in Adrien's body again.

The difference was that he was in class, laptop and a notebook out in front of him, and a professor continuing on their lecture at the front, completely oblivious to what happened.

So, when faced with a situation that she didn't know what to do with, Marinette decided to type out as much of the professor's speech that she could. A lot of it didn't make sense, a few words that never popped up in her own education, but she was fast at typing.

It wasn't perfect, but she saved it at the end.

Taking out his cell phone from his pocket proved that invested in a different phone, one that he'd be able to unlock with his fingerprint.

He hadn't mentioned that at all.

Marinette, however, didn't have a new enough model for that feature.

She found her name in his contact list with a few emojis beside it.

He answered on the second ring.

"Marinette, hey," he greeted. It was just as odd to hear her own voice over the phone as it had been in person. "You're absolutely fine with me eating your food, right? Because I've already ate it."

She snorted. "Yeah, sure."

"It was really good," he complimented. "I figured since you weren't contacting me immediately, you weren't freaking out. Am I right?"

She did reach up to smooth out her hair, momentarily caught off-guard from how short it was. "Where's your next class? Might as well make myself useful."

"You don't have to," Adrien said.

"Can't have you skiving now, can we?" she remarked.

Adrien laughed softly. "I think this counts as a good reason for an absence. I can't make you do all my work for me."

But it wasn't like she hated it. The previous class had been quite interesting, despite how much she didn't understand, and it was only typing.

"I'll be your scribe for the time being," she replied. "I haven't got class for... two hours? So, you're free to just lounge around and inspect all my stuff."

To that, he complimented, "You have a nice place."

"Thanks." Marinette smiled, pleased. "Not exactly how I planned for you to see it the first time, but it'll have to do."

The laugh that came from him was breathy. "Making plans with me, are you?"

"Well, I do foresee you being in my life for a while," she said.

"Only a while?" Adrien sucked in a dramatic gasp. "You wound me."

"Maybe longer," she amended. "We'll see how you do."

She could hear the amusement in his voice. "I'm being tested now?"

"Who knows?" was her response. "Can you tell me where to go, please? I've been standing awkwardly in the hallway this whole time, and I feel really out of place."

It turned out he wasn't good at describing things to her. At first, he'd said the number of the room and building, but it was on the complete opposite side to hers, so she had no idea where she was going. Adrien ended up directing her in the wrong way multiple times, but she did find the classroom eventually.

"I'll see you later, then," Marinette whispered, adjusting the strap of his bag. The added weight of a laptop would've given her more trouble normally, but Adrien seemed capable of handling it. "Wish me luck."

"All the luck," he replied. "You're a lifesaver, thank you."

And he really sounded like he meant it. "Of course."

The following class wasn't as foreign to her, but it didn't last long; rather, an alarm went through the university, alerts appearing on phones, and Marinette fumbled with putting his belongings away and trying to lag behind the others—

But that wasn't the case there, was it?

Although the powers she'd been gifted were hers, she needed to be wearing a conduit to use them, and she doubted that that would happen in Adrien's body at all. The earrings were back in her own ears—on _him—_and the thought of telling him that it was actually her job to stop the chaos in the city was enough to make her feel nauseated.

Chat was sure to get there before her.

It wasn't like they were always available. It was lucky that the city took precautions and stopped what they were doing—be it a meeting, or classes for schools—and although it was with the intent to stop others from getting hurt, it helped with slipping away and getting to the scene of the crime, no matter how long it took.

It helped that when Marinette used her power, it was like time was reversed and everything that was damaged turned back to how it had been before a civilian was infected.

She'd stopped questioning the logic of magic.

And after five years, everyone else had, too.

It was when she was unlocking his phone to call him that they switched.

She was no longer holding a phone.

Instead, it was a shaker filled with pepper, and it was clear from how uncomfortable her nose felt that he'd intentionally sniffed it to swap them back. Whether it was because he didn't want her to be in his body during an attack or not, she didn't wait to find out.

Marinette transformed and made her way across the city, her trusty bandalore in her hand and cutting the time it took to travel tremendously.

When she leapt down beside Chat—her legs not hurting from the great distance—she offered him a sheepish smile as she said, "Sorry I'm late."

"I just got here, too," he replied, holding his hand above his eyes to try and block out the small amount of sun as he surveyed the damage. "So, how's your day been?"

"Oh, just peachy," Marinette answered, closing the distance between them to lean onto him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I honestly just want to nap."

He patted her hand. "You have a job to do first."

"Job implies getting paid," she muttered. "This is more like volunteer work that we can't get out of at this point. I signed my life away with these earrings."

"All that in exchange for a little bit of fame," he mused. "Was it worth it, Bug?"

Marinette let out an exaggerated sigh. "My bed's worth more to me."

"Worth more than spending time with me?" Chat asked, turning so she was able to see his smile as he looked down at her.

She made a point of humming, pretending to think. "I'll get back to you about that."

"I've been friend-zoned by you for the last time," he proclaimed, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. "I'll take what remains of my dignity and leave."

"You're my best friend," Marinette correct, straightening up and wrapping an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer until his hair was almost touching her face. "That has to count for something, right?"

He sniffed, hand falling back down to his side. "Maybe."

"Besides, we've got a film coming out next year about our secret love," she teased, grinning widely. "You can live through that, can't you?"

Chat's laughter was soft. "Only if you come see it with me."

"I don't know," she said, drawing out the last vowel. "Ladybug _and_ Chat Noir going to a film together about their secret love affair? It sounds like too good publicity."

"Or," he started. "We could go together—but out of, well, costume."

It wasn't like it was forbidden.

But when they'd started all those years ago, they'd adopted the secret identities, deciding it was what was best for them. After all, it was what everyone did in films, wasn't it?

It wasn't that she thought he'd dislike her.

Marinette thought she was even better when her eyebrows were actually visible.

She didn't want to commit to anything—to reveal the other side of her life—before knowing if there was anything between them. Marinette wasn't oblivious to Chat feeling the same way about her, but there was that insecurity that something would change between them when he found his soulmate.

And so, she wanted to keep it comfortable between the two of them. Chat had understood, completely agreeing when she'd told him the real reason she kept saying no after the first year, and it was rarely brought up.

Rather than answering that, Marinette changed the subject. "We should probably go down there."

The sigh he let out was audible. "Yeah, we should."

"Come on, you," she started, taking a step away from him and stretching her arms out, even though it wasn't needed. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can get into my bed."

"But I can't even join you," he pointed out. "What's in it for me?"

Marinette grinned. "The thought of me lounging in my duvet?"

He made a cross with his arms. "No."

Amused, she offered, "A nice, tight hug before our transformations drop?"

"Hell, yeah," Chat agreed, even going as far as to hold a fist up in victory. "That's just what I need to give me energy."

With a laugh, she asked, "Physical contact?"

"With you, yes." He went as far as to wink at her. The fact that the sclera of his eyes were green due to his transformation had never been off-putting. "Promise you won't cop a feel when my guard is down?"

She was tempted to roll her eyes.

Marinette held her hand up, crossing her index and middle finger. "I swear."

"Good girl," he praised, reaching out and patting her shoulder. "I'll go and make a grand entrance, yeah?"

And before she could say anything to that, he was running and using his staff to jump down, jumping far further than any human was able to normally.

There was nothing but fondness that she felt for him. Chat was—Chat was wonderful, and that felt like an understatement to say.

Sure, they hadn't spent more than a few hours in each other's company, and she'd definitely never witnessed him at his worst, but there was a lot to be said when she trusted someone with her life completely.

It also helped that they met up once every two weeks, sitting on a rooftop and taking it in turns to buy takeaway food for the two of them. It was a routine that had popped up after Marinette had started college, had better access to money, and had only happened once since she'd moved into her apartment with Chloé.

She had no idea whether he was still in education or not. All she knew that he was similar to her in age—which was proved from pictures of them growing up beside each other—and random titbits about his life, but they were never the most detailed things.

For instance, he gave his friends nicknames to avoid saying their names.

Marinette did the same.

And when the city was reverted to its previous state, her earrings beeping to signify how many minutes she had left before her transformation dropped, Marinette made good of her promise and hugged Chat from behind.

She squeezed as tight as she could.

He wheezed. "That's the good stuff."

"Idiot," she accused, no heat in her voice. "You're not standing me up next weekend, are you?"

"Absolutely not," Chat replied. "I'll be there, even if it's raining."

She grinned, her cheek still pressed against his back as she hugged him. "Your turn to buy."

"I'd buy you anything," he announced without hesitation.

And from knowing him for so long, she didn't doubt that. Marinette had made a comment that she'd wanted to eat something in particular a while ago, only for him to turn up with it the the next time that they'd met up. There was also the case of him appearing at the scene of a villain wrecking the city with a pack of sweets of some sort in his hand, happily sharing them with her afterwards before they had to split up.

Chat was nice.

He was _more_ than nice.

Her earrings chimed once more, his ring joining in, and they reluctantly parted.

The whole thing had taken close to two hours, and when she'd gotten home and picked up her fallen phone, ignoring Chloé's comments about seeing her flirting with Chat on the news, she checked to see whether Adrien had contacted her.

He had a few minutes ago.

He said that he hoped there wasn't any pepper stuck up her nose because of him.

And even though she'd been worried that he would've thought that she was ignoring him, she laughed.

-x-

When she spent time with Nino the next time—more than sitting in the same class and exchanging awkward waves, never quite talking to each other—she was in her own body. They were in a café near to campus, where the food was cheap and the place wasn't too dirty.

Nino had brought along his girlfriend, Alya.

She was tanned, had red-coloured hair, and an infectious laugh that was startlingly loud the first time she heard it.

"You were stuck with _him_?" Alya laughed, thoroughly amused by Nino recounting the first body swap. "You poor, poor thing."

Marinette reached up and tucked some loose strands behind her ear. "He wasn't that bad."

"He can't even give me precise directions," was Alya's response. "Feel free to ask me if you ever need help, all right? Or if you want to escape these two idiots. I know they can go off on a tangent when they're together."

And as if to prove her point, Alya gestured to the two beside them that really were in their own world, leaning into each other and grinning at something on Adrien's phone.

"Have you known them long?" Marinette asked, turning towards her more in her chair, giving more her full attention.

Alya pushed her glasses further up her nose. "A few years. I transferred in the same year as Adrien in secondary school."

"Oh, that sucks," she remarked. "I mean, I never really changed schools? But I imagine it's a sucky situation. Yeah."

Alya didn't look at her weirdly for that. "Yeah." She flashed a small smile at that. "I haven't really gotten to know anyone else here. Well, I talk to a few in my classes, but it's never more than what's required, you know? And no one's approached me about going out anywhere, so... maybe I'm giving off the wrong impression or something."

"Same here," Marinette admitted. "My best friend came here with me, though. We managed to grab a place to live together, so, at least, I don't have to worry about getting along with my room-mates."

"Lucky." Alya scrunched her face up briefly. "The one next to me keeps playing music really loudly. And another won't clean up their mess—there's pots and pans on the countertops for _days_ before they finally do something about it."

It sounded like everything she wanted to avoid. "But you get your own bathroom, right?"

"Thankfully," Alya confirmed. "Plus, Nino lives on the same floor. I normally just retreat to his room."

For a lack of a better way to approach the subject, Marinette blurted out, "Want to exchange numbers?"

Alya laughed, grinning widely. "Yeah! That sounds great."

And so, another name got added to her contact list.

It was steadily growing.

Alya was nice, was quick with her remarks, and when she and Nino interacted, it was amusing to watch. Adrien got along well with her, too, so their banter was just as amusing, and although Marinette was new to the little group, she didn't feel left out.

They were very welcoming.

Alya was fast to scold her boyfriend when he made an inside joke that was more than just in passing, trying to make sure that she was included. And although Adrien was sat across the table, with Nino, he was still paying her attention.

It was clear that she was able to get along well with them.

When they parted afterwards, Adrien text her to say that he was thankful about that.

And along with that, Alya asked whether she wanted to go out in the future, just the two of them.

It was sweet of her.

As nice as it was to be included in Adrien's group of friends—for those were his closest, the only ones that had come from his college before—Marinette didn't really have that social circle along with her.

She had Chloé to her name, but that was more than enough.

She was worried about their friends meeting, if she was being honest. And when she told Adrien that, he'd laughed, not quite understanding where she was coming from, telling her that it would be fine.

But Adrien hadn't met Chloé yet.

It wasn't something that Chloé was eager to get to.

"No," Chloé said. "I'm busy tomorrow."

Marinette squinted, suspicious. "You have the day off."

"Yeah, and I want to relax," was the reply to that. "Not interact with your boy-toy. He's not even the good one, _gosh_."

"I'm not introducing Chat to you," Marinette grumbled, looking at her friend in disapproval. "Identities are a secret for a reason, you know?"

"A stupid one," Chloé quipped. "So what if you're not soulmates? You two are still allowed to date and get nasty."

She cleared her throat. "This is none of your—"

"Fuck off," Chloé interrupted. "I've had to put up with your whining for years."

"_My_ whining?" she questioned, incredulous. "It's nothing compared to yours!"

"I've never whined in my life," Chloé proclaimed, looking at her nails. "I'm an angel."

She snorted. "No one's ever said that about you."

"Well, they're clearly idiots, then, aren't they?" Chloé remarked. "And don't you have someone's arms to run off into right now?"

Marinette raised her middle finger.

Chloé grinned, showing her teeth. "Don't forget to be safe!"

"I hate you," Marinette muttered.

A fortnight ago when she told Adrien that she'd be busy, he hadn't batted an eyelash at it, accepting her answer. She'd expected that if she did it a second time, it might cause him to be a bit suspicious, but he didn't question it at all. Instead, Adrien wished her a good evening, hoping that she'd enjoy herself, and said that they'd talk the following day.

Was it strange that she'd expected him to trust her less?

Then again, all the relationship expectations were from what she'd seen from films, television, and comics, and they weren't exactly accurate. She didn't really have anything to base it off of; her previous relationships, if they could really be called that when they were so innocent, were barely-there, just something to pass the time between classes at school.

Chat was already there, sitting down with his legs crossed, a blanket spread out across the floor with different containers spread out. He'd even set out a drink on her side, along with a portable cutlery set—that he'd bought before, when he said they were wasting too much plastic—and a plate that definitely wasn't made of paper.

"I'll be expecting fine china soon," Marinette mused, coming to sit beside him, legs almost touching as she got comfortable.

Chat smiled. "Anything for you."

"I wouldn't recommend it," she remarked. "I'm pretty clumsy. I'm not allowed the expensive wine glasses when I'm at home because of it."

"Sad," he said, reaching out and touching her shoulder. "Mine only have expensive wine glasses. I've been breaking them since before I ever met you."

She snorted. "Okay, spoilt boy."

Chat winked at her. "I promise to be careful with you."

Marinette decided to start serving the food instead of answering that.

It was too late for Papillon to attack, they knew that. There wasn't a chance of many things interrupting them—the main threat was the weather, as it was early autumn, but the forecast had been promising when she'd looked.

The last time they'd been cut short, they hadn't been able to meet up the following week to make up for it, Chat having already been preoccupied.

It was kind of stupid that they were still keeping it a secret, wasn't it?

Chat was someone that she'd trust with anything; he'd pushed her to the side, taken a hit for her instead so many times, and had caused her to laugh when she was feeling down. When she was with him, just seeing his smile reach his eyes was enough for her to feel happy, and she never had to tell him to back off or that he was being too pushy.

He was—

He was everything to her, really.

And wasn't that why he'd been chosen alongside her?

They worked together well, got along swimmingly, and Marinette thought their friendship was one of the strongest—

But instead of voicing any of that, she blurted. "I met my soulmate."

To his credit, he didn't choke on his food. Chat did look rather surprised, though.

"Yeah," she said, shoving another spoonful of food into her mouth. And she used that to stall, taking her time to chew, avoiding looking at him.

It was him that spoke first, shock still clear in his voice. "And they—what are they like?"

"Nice," Marinette replied, lack of a better word to describe Adrien.

"Nice?" Chat questioned with a laugh. "That's all you've got?"

She shrugged, feeling a bit bashful. "I don't really know him."

"I'm glad you found him," Chat said. "Can I... can I ask who's the older one?"

"Him," Marinette revealed. "My birthday was a couple of weeks ago."

"You never told me!" he accused, throwing one hand up to emphasise his point. "We could've—I could've done something, you know?"

It was a sweet thought.

"You never told me about yours," she pointed out.

Although they'd spoken about it in passing before, she had the vague idea of which month his birthday was in, it didn't mean that she knew of his age exactly. She was sure it was the same for him, too.

"Forget that." He waved the hand dismissively before it fell down to his lap. "I'm bringing you a present next time, for real. You can't stop me."

She replied, "I'll bring one for you, too, then."

"That's fine with me." Chat grinned "As long as it's not expensive wine glasses, okay?"

"Drat," she said with a laugh. "There goes that plan."

He reached out and patted her knee. "It was an awful plan."

"I'll let you smash one at our wedding instead," she joked.

After taking a sip of his drink, Chat asked, "Shouldn't you be marrying your soulmate?"

"I don't know about that," Marinette replied, honest. "I barely know him, remember? I mean, we can be friends, yeah, but I have no idea if it's going to be anything more. I kind of hope not, honestly."

He blinked. "No?"

But instead of addressing that, Marinette asked, "Have you met yours?"

"Yes." Chat swallowed. "I—she's... nice."

Marinette pushed him without much strength. "Don't mock me!"

"I'd never," he said, putting a hand over his chest as he sat back upright. "I'm in much the same position as you, I'd say."

It was news to her.

They'd spoken about soulmates in the past, of course—it was a staple thing for their lives, something that everyone did—but they'd never revealed personal details. Marinette hadn't a clue that he'd met his.

It should've been something they spoke about, right?

It was the sole reason they hadn't revealed themselves to each other.

"My friend's telling me to see if I want to fuck him already so I can run off with you," she admitted, framing it as a joke.

Chat's laughter was loud. "That sounds like a great idea."

She grinned. "Want to elope?"

"Absolutely," he replied, moving closer and and leaning his head on her shoulder, not using his full weight. "You'll treat me well, won't you?"

"Oh, of course," she agreed. "No feathers pillow for you."

Chat's response was loud as he sat up again, looking at her with a smile. "You remembered!"

"Yes?" Marinette said, a bit surprised by his response. "It's—why wouldn't I?"

"My friends don't remember all the time," was his answer. "But you—you did, and we haven't even had a sleepover together."

She wetted her lips. "I'd like to."

"Careful, I might start getting ideas soon." Chat laughed. "It's just—it's nice, that's all. I really appreciate you remembering that."

"I probably remember a few other useless things," Marinette replied. Then, realising how she'd worded it and how prone he was to overreacting, she reached out, putting a hand on his knee. "Not that _you're_ useless. I just—you know what I meant, right?"

Gently, he put his gloved hand on top of hers. "Yeah, I do."

And as she looked up into his green-coloured eyes, she returned his soft smile. "Good."

There wasn't a need to fill the gaps of silence with conversation. They returned back to eating their food, catching the other staring and exchanging smiles, and although he always brought more than an enough food for the both of them, she ate until her stomach was protesting.

Chat always did the same.

She'd had too much food, her cheeks were hurting from laughing, but the warm feeling she felt from being with him was more than enough for her to come in the first place. The rest were just perks—just seeing him, when there wasn't an aspect of danger or screaming civilians that prompted them to stop talking and actually do their job, was wonderful.

It was just sad that he wasn't her soulmate.

-x-

Adrien met Chloé, but Marinette wasn't there for it.

She'd been left in Adrien's body, staring up at his ceiling from his bed, still curled up and warm in the duvet, too preoccupied with the sudden swap to comprehend that she'd been in the middle of a late breakfast with her friend.

They'd even gone out for it.

As before, his phone unlocked with his fingerprint. Her name hadn't changed from the contact list, and he answered relatively quickly.

"Marinette," he greeted, her own voice sounding strange to her ears. "I—hi."

"Hey," she started. "Or should I say morning?"

He laughed. "I stayed up last night gaming."

But instead of being able to respond to that, there was the sound of fumbling coming through the device, before the one to talk wasn't Adrien at all.

"This is disturbing," was Chloé's opening statement. "He's not—he's not even sitting like you. I refuse to stay here and talk to him, I want you to know that."

She could hear it as Adrien exclaimed, "I am right here, you know."

"Chloé," Marinette said with a sigh. "It won't be for too long, right? And we're still waiting for our food. You can't leave yet."

"Fucking watch me," Chloé shot back. "And _that's_ what he sounds like? Marinette, you can do so much better."

Adrien wasn't one to stay quiet, apparently. "Still here."

It was a disaster of a situation. The two of them had gone out for breakfast as their days were free, but that didn't mean that they wanted anyone else to intrude on those times.

Adrien had never been part of the equation.

Running a hand through her hair, still shocked when she felt how short the strands really were, Marinette tugged them tightly at the root, trying to get it to sink in that she really was somewhere else.

She breathed out slowly. "If you love me at all, please, give the phone back to Adrien."

"Bitch," was Chloé's parting word.

The bedroom she was in wasn't too messy. A pillow had fallen on the floor, clothes hung over the back of the desk chair with a laptop close to falling off the edge of the desk, but for the most part, it was clean. It wasn't the nightmare that she could've been scared of seeing.

There just weren't any personal touches; no tiny plant pots like she had in her living room, no framed photographs, and nothing on the walls.

There was the noise of the phone being passed again, then, it was Adrien coming through to say, "Chloé's stomped off to the bathroom."

"She's probably going to stare at her reflection for, like, half an hour," Marinette quipped. "Don't worry about it."

And when he spoke, it was softly. "I don't think she likes me."

"She doesn't like anyone, really," she assured him. "She's the friend that hates everyone but keeps you close, you know? I doubt she'll ever actually say I'm lovable, but I totally am."

Adrien hummed. "Sounds complicated."

"Eh, it's pretty simple," she replied. "You're welcome to stay and eat my food when it comes, but I doubt Chloé will join you. And, well, if she does, she'll probably just glare at you the whole time in a vaguely threatening way."

His laughter was soft. "You're really selling your friend here."

"I'm being honest," Marinette said. "I know her better than anyone. She really, really doesn't want to meet you right now."

There was a moment where she thought she'd said the wrong thing.

Then, he came out with, "Bit late for that now, isn't it?"

"Maybe," she agreed. "But I think she's mostly just annoyed that it happened like that. She'd probably be much more comfortable if I was there."

"Comfortable?" he blurted. "She looked at me like I was dirt."

She could imagine it. It had been a long time since that look had been genuinely directed at her. "She's shy."

"I'm sorry in advance, but I'm going to sniff pepper again and bail out," he announced. "You two had a plan, I really didn't mean to interrupt it."

It was a sweet offer. "I'm the one that sneezed."

"Yeah, and I'm the one tied to you," he replied. "Get ready for the switch back. I'm going to stare the waitress in the eyes as I snort a line of pepper."

"...Try to make it less weird, please," she pleaded.

His laughter didn't sound forced. "We'll see."

And with that, he hung up.

Marinette looked at the background of his phone until it faded out, screen turning off. She placed it carefully on the mattress, not wanting it to fall onto the floor.

The swap was as instant as before. Within a blink of an eye, no nausea or any uncomfortable feelings, Marinette was back in her own body, sitting on the same chair at the not-quite-dingy-looking diner.

Chloé was missing, though.

There was a burning sensation to her eyes that she was slowly becoming aware of, a weird feeling in her nose, and Marinette used a napkin and blew into it, bursting into laughter when she saw pepper on it.

Out of all the things that could be said about Adrien, he was definitely considerate.

Then again, if Marinette could get out of an uncomfortable situation by snorting pepper, she'd probably do it, too.

She sent a text to him first, thanking him, before she sent one to Chloé, asking her to come out.

It took her less than a minute to emerge.

"It's disgusting in there," Chloé announced, sitting primly down in her seat, placing one thigh on top of the other before brushing her hair over her shoulder. "The things I do for you, Marinette."

She sniffed, still feeling the remnants of pepper irritating her. "I think you might've made Adrien pee."

"Good," Chloé said. "He doesn't get to intrude on our date like that."

She grinned. "Oh, should I tell him I'm a taken woman?"

"You should," Chloé said, nodding her head. "He's a bit of a pussy if he can't tell me to fuck off, you know?"

"You didn't even give him a fair chance," she pointed out.

"I don't want to." Chloé had no problem being honest. "I'm bitter and he's inserting himself where he's unwanted. I'll talk to him when I want to, thank you."

She had to say, "I'm the one that sneezed, not him."

"Besides the point."

"He literally snorted pepper to get away from you," Marinette announced. "Don't you feel a little bit bad?"

That made Chloé smile widely. "Not at all."

"Unbelievable," she muttered. "Why do I like you at all?"

"You don't," Chloé said. "I know your deepest secret so I'm bribing you to be around me, that's all."

She snorted. "Right."

Chloé winked at her.

She felt the urge to stick her tongue out childishly.

It was a disaster of a situation, but she didn't hold any resentment for her friend.

"Can you meet him normally soon?" she asked as the waitress delivered their food. "Please?"

"Maybe," was Chloé's answer. "If you catch me on a good day."

Marinette beamed.

It was as close to a confirmation as she was going to get.

Adrien laughed about it when he called her later that evening. She supposed that it had been quite funny due to Chloé's dramatic reaction, but that didn't mean that she didn't feel a little bit bad about him having to deal with that.

For all she'd told him about her friend, she hadn't quite warned him for all of that.

"I don't mind," he assured her quietly.

But there was still that twinge of guilt. They were soulmates—supposedly able to get along alarmingly well, suited for each other whether it was just as friends—but from the time they'd spent together while at university, she could say that he'd only just passed being an acquaintance.

There was a little bit of uneasiness that they got along so well. Adrien had yet to say anything, let alone _do_ a single thing, that had annoyed her thus far, and she had to assume that she was in the same boat for him. And wasn't that—it was weird, wasn't it?

Compared to all her other friendships, it was.

There was something weird about it.

But, surely, it was the same for others with their soulmates. It had to be a natural thing, something they would all experience—but when the subject had been covered in class, told by their parents, it had never been mentioned how odd it seemed at first.

Marinette had known him almost a month, but she didn't _know_ him.

She wanted to.

She did, but there was something—

It wasn't that it felt forced—not even when they willingly spent time together close to five times a week between classes, trying to get rid of the sneezing trait—but she couldn't help that there was still that little bit of disappointment that he wasn't the one that she wanted.

But that was stupid.

There was nothing that said soulmates had to be together, that she wasn't allowed to date anyone else when she first found her own, but Chat—

Chat was pretty secretive about his life.

She was, too.

It came with the territory.

And it seemed that Adrien had started to know her well enough because he asked how she was feeling the next day when her text response to him seemed off.

He said it was the lack of emojis.

Compared to him, she barely used any in the first place.

And when she said that she was fine, not explaining any more than that, he didn't press any further.

Marinette thought that it was forgotten, but when it came time for them to meet between lessons, that wasn't the case.

"Hey," Adrien said, sliding into his seat beside her, putting his bag on his lap and zipping it open without looking at her. Then, as he reached into it, he pulled out something small in his hand and put it onto the table in front of her. "This is for you."

It was a sweet.

"I—what?" she stuttered, surprised.

"This is your favourite, right?" he asked, but it really didn't sound like a question. He nudged it towards her, an open smile that reached his eyes. "I know we haven't got enough time to actually get food today, so I hope this will do for now."

She blinked.

It was a passing comment. Marinette had said that she hadn't been able to find the sweet anywhere local, didn't want to order a load of them online, and that she was going to have to wait when she went back home over the holidays to have it again.

And yet, it was there in front of her, wrapped up innocently and waiting.

Her throat felt a little tight at that.

"Thank you," she whispered, taking it into her hand and slowly unwrapping it.

Adrien beamed.

Again, she felt guilty for not wanting him to be the one. It didn't matter that he didn't dress up in a leather bodysuit with cat ears that somehow stayed in his hair during scuffles—Adrien was right there, remembering a small detail of information about her that she'd mentioned a few weeks ago, taking it out at the right time to cheer her up.

When had she done anything like that for him?

It wasn't an obligation to be good to him.

There was nothing stopping her from cutting him off, saying that she didn't want to see him again, but he'd surpassed her expectations, thoroughly surprising her with such a small gesture.

She'd met his friends, been included in inside jokes, and made to feel welcome from his small gestured, and she'd—

What had she really done for him?

They passed that short period of time studying, sitting side-by-side and immersed in their books. Adrien's notebook was in much the same condition as it had been before, with tiny doodles in the margins when his attention waned, but he was actually trying.

She wondered whether he was doing it because she was there.

When they parted ways, the two of them going in different directions, Marinette made the decision to hug him.

It was very obvious that he was surprised.

She chickened out of keeping it for too long, pulling back and holding a hand up in an awkward way as she blurted on her way out, "Bye."

He called after her, "See you!"

She didn't look back.

-x-

It wasn't that something drastic had changed, but Marinette did put more effort into befriending him. As strange as it was for their interests to align as much as they did, the more time they spent together, she started to notice things about him.

The first was that he tapped his nails against surfaces a lot.

She was far too thrilled the first time she felt irritation towards him.

Adrien also had the habit of rambling, long-winded stories taking forever to get to the point, and sometimes, she wanted to interrupt him to get to the actual plot, but she didn't.

He was always really animated when he was interested in what he was talking about, waving and moving his hands along with his words—which she also did.

Adrien accidentally knocked over a drink because of it one day.

Marinette laughed at his reaction until her stomach hurt.

But with the revelation that he could be disliked, that he wasn't _perfect_ and made for her in every single way, she was able to relax around him. She wasn't worrying about her every move, about whether she was coming across too strong or that her comment wasn't appropriate, and she looked forward to the following time that they'd meet up, not thinking of it as a chore at all.

And when she'd started to be excited to see him again, she still felt guilty for not feeling that in the first place. Meeting her soulmate should've been the turning point of her life, a moment that not everyone could have, so she was supposed to cherish it—

She still considered Ladybug the best part of her life, but it was coming close.

When she expressed those thoughts to Chloé, Chloé had clicked her tongue in clear disapproval. "I think you mean I'm the best part of your life, actually."

Marinette didn't dignify that with an answer.

She didn't need to.

When she met up with Adrien the next time, her class had finished early, so she'd grabbed coffee for the two of them, almost spilling it over her as she opened a heavy door on the campus.

"Thank you," Adrien gushed, cupping his with both hands and holding it close. "I wasn't expecting this at all."

She smiled widely. "I finished early."

"You're the best." He took a large gulp of his drink, expression lighting up when he realised that it was one of his favourites. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

Teasing, she replied, "Karma from a past life, probably."

"Past?" he asked. "I'm perfectly good in this life, thank you."

"You're pretty much the definition of a brat," Marinette plainly replied, taking a sip of her own drink, trying not to laugh as he haughtily raised his chin in the air. "Tell me, rich kid. How have you suffered to deserve someone as good as me?"

He sniffed. "I'm suffering right now."

"That's a change from not even two minutes ago," she remarked. "Do I have to look out for your mood swings from now on?"

"How about my fist?" he muttered.

It was a joke, of course, but he hadn't made one like that before to her.

Marinette's laughter was loud.

And when she'd calmed down, able to see that his ears were pink and that he was fiddling with the hairs at the nape of his neck, body language screaming that he was embarrassed by what had just happened, it just made her feel even more amused.

"Okay, maybe you're good now," she mused, smile reaching her eyes. "Anyone that's able to threaten me to my face can't be a bad person, surely."

Adrien didn't relax immediately. "I didn't—"

"I'm not offended," she assured him, taking a step closer so she could gently bump her shoulder against him. "You think I'd be so upset after hearing worse things from Chloé daily?"

"I just—I'm not sure what to say around you all the time," he admitted, hand falling down to his side, though there was still a faint redness to his face. "I don't want to scare you away or anything."

Marinette could understand that. "I'll tell you if you ever piss me off."

"Yeah, but will you really?" he questioned.

"I will," she assured him. "But only if you do the same, okay?"

Adrien's smile could only be described as shy. "I'll try."

He was growing on her greatly.

So, when she bought coffee for the two of them for the second time that week, she didn't feel bad about the impact on her bank account. It wasn't that much, and it just meant that she wouldn't treat herself after an attack by Papillon.

Then again, she could always complain to Chloé that she was poor.

As much as Chloé pretended to be annoyed by it, she didn't mind paying for things.

When Adrien finished early with her at the end of the week, she didn't protest too much when he offered to pay for lunch for the both of them.

The place they ended up going to wasn't one that she'd been to before, but Adrien had said that it was one of his favourites. The atmosphere was nice, it wasn't too busy, and the staff seemed friendly. There was also the bonus that Adrien was there to brighten the mood, too.

She hadn't quite sorted out her feelings for him.

And that was—that was weird, wasn't it?

But Adrien hadn't mentioned anything to her about it, certainly hadn't done a thing that could've been classed as other than friendly, and they'd barely addressed that potential part of their relationship.

So, Marinette was the one to awkwardly ask, "What are we?"

He looked bewildered. "Pardon?"

"I don't know how I feel about you," she admitted, fiddling with a napkin. "It's—I should know by now, shouldn't I?"

"That's—" Adrien swallowed. "It's different for everyone, isn't it? I mean, some jump into it and regret it, or never even try at all."

She said to that, "Helpful."

"Sorry." He didn't sound sincere about that. "I'm thinking aloud."

"You're avoiding my question," she pointed out.

Adrien seemed to struggle for a moment before he came out with, "I might have a crush on you?"

It was almost comical. "_Might_?"

"Maybe," he confirmed, reaching up and brushing his hair away from his forehead. "Or it's me thinking you're so cool and not knowing how to—come to terms with it, I guess."

And as much as that sentence was hard to understand, she replied, "I feel the same."

He let out a small laugh. "You think I'm cool?"

"Well, yeah," Marinette agreed. "For a while, I was a bit annoyed that you seemed so—so perfect, if that makes sense?"

Rather than taking it negatively, Adrien propped an elbow onto the table, resting his chin in his hand. "I don't think anyone's ever called me that before."

"But then I started to know you more," she amended. "So, yeah, I think you're pretty cool."

His smile reached his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Definitely," she said, not looking away from his gaze. "You're—you're everything I could've wanted in a soulmate and more. Unless you come out as a murderer or something, I don't think that's going to change any time soon."

"Not a murderer, I swear," Adrien answered.

She hummed, making a show of leaning back and crossing her arms. "I'll be the judge of that."

There was nothing but fondness in his voice as he replied, "The worst you'll see is my bedroom on a bad day, I think."

"I've only seen it once," Marinette said. "It didn't look _that_ bad."

"That's what you say now," he started, shaking his head as though he was disappointed. "But I can get horribly lazy. I'm warning you now."

She mused, "You might get demoted from pretty cool now."

"Oh, no," he gasped. "I can't have that now, can I?"

"I'd still like if you were only cool," she said with a smile. "But you'd never get me in your bedroom."

Adrien laughed. "That's not a trade I want to make."

With the realisation that he wasn't perfect—which was reinforced by him recounting embarrassing stories from his childhood, and Marinette chiming in with her own—it made her appreciate him all that much more. The fact that he was willing to admit all of that to her without seeming too upset about it, other than the occasional blush, spoke volumes to how comfortable he was with her.

She couldn't believe that she'd been disappointed with him before.

It wasn't something she was going to tell him, though.

That seemed too mean to say out of nowhere, and it wasn't necessary for him to know. It wasn't as though she'd been rude when they'd first met—Marinette knew that she'd been polite.

It just so happened that she was nicer and more relaxed around him after some more time.

As before, when she said she was going out for the evening so probably wouldn't be able to reply to his texts, Adrien didn't ask her for any more information.

He wished her a nice evening with a lot of emojis.

She smiled at that.

There was always some that panicked when she was spotted out as Ladybug, expecting there to be some sort of trouble nearby. It was the same for Chat Noir, but it had lessened some as patterns in the attacks were announced on the news.

She beat Chat there.

Sitting down with her legs crossed, Marinette placed the nicely-wrapped present beside her before setting out the blanket and food that she'd purchased before transforming.

When Chat appeared some minutes later, it was with a bag on his back.

From experience, she knew that he had to put that on after, as anything they wore before transforming turned into the suit. It meant that she could be in her pyjamas normally, but no one had a clue when magic was involved.

He remembered to bring the cutlery sets, as always.

And before they even started to eat, he reached into the bag again, bringing out a gift that was wrapped with far too much tape, holding it out to her with a grin.

"And this is yours," she said, using one hand to pick up the one for him, exchanging them without managing to drop them in the process. "Happy early birthday, Chat."

"You don't know when mine is," he pointed out, the suspicious look ruined by his smile. "You're not stalking me, are you?"

She snorted. "I wish."

"Isn't it supposed to be me wishing for that?" he asked. "You're getting this all wrong, Ladybug."

"Be quiet and open your gift," Marinette retorted. "And it's not wine glasses, before you even make that joke again."

"I'd _never_ bring up a dead joke—"

"I'm not believing that," she interrupted. "Chop, chop. I'm waiting."

He placed the gift in his lap pointedly. "Shouldn't you be going first? You just had your birthday."

"Fine," she said, giving in without much protest. "But only because I love you."

Chat laughed.

The tape was easy to tear off when she had the aid of a magical suit that allowed her to surpass her normal strength. If she'd been given it in any other situation, she would've had to use scissors to get past it all.

"Great wrapping," she remarked.

He wasn't embarrassed in the slightest. "Thanks, I did it myself."

"I can tell," Marinette muttered, pulling off the rest of the paper.

It was a pair of pyjamas.

"They look soft," she said, running her gloved fingers over them, unable to feel the actual texture.

"They are," Chat told her. "So you'll be all cosy and warm before transforming."

She jabbed a finger in his direction. "It was _one_ time!"

"A cute time," he teased, batting her finger away gently. "Besides, I know you like lounging around in pyjamas when you're not busy."

And although she was smiling, she answered, "You know too much about me."

"Not enough," he corrected with a wink. "Tell me more personal stuff in the future, will you?"

"I'll think about it," was her reply. "But only if you like your gift."

And from the smile when he opened it up, it seemed that he did. It wasn't something physical, not really; rather a gift card with money to spend on an online game that she knew that he played.

"You know how to butter me up," he mused. "I've been trying not to spend all my money on this."

She laughed. "Spend mine instead, then."

"Well, I have to now," Chat responded. "But I won't be happy about it, not one bit."

With a grin, she replied, "I'm sure."

"Happy late birthday," he said as they settled down, side-by-side with the food laid out in little containers in front of them. "I was going to bring cake, but I realised I have no idea which you'd like best. We tend to stay with savoury more, don't we?"

"We could always be adventurous and have something sweet for dinner," Marinette suggested. "People have breakfast for dinner all the time, don't they? It's pretty much the same thing."

He hummed. "Kind of."

"It's your turn next time," she pointed out. "You could always surprise me."

"Surprising you is my favourite thing," Chat said. "Other than being with you, of course."

"Of course," she repeated, fondly shaking her head. "You're all kinds of cheesy, you do know that, don't you?"

Chat put a hand over his heart. "All I know is you—"

Marinette pushed him over.

Although they tended to stay to rooftops, high up where others couldn't bother them, she never felt out of place when she was with him. Chat was wonderful; she felt comfortable with him, didn't care about their surroundings, and it helped that if they were clumsy enough to fall from a high distance, they wouldn't be hurt.

There was always the option of going elsewhere, but the sight of Chat Noir and Ladybug sitting in a coffee-shop and sipping drinks would've been far too popular on the internet, let alone the amount of people that would try and talk to them in person.

Marinette already had people waving and trying to flag her down when she was on her way home after an attack.

"My friend's still trying to convince me to invite you over," she told him, laughing. "She seems to think blindfolding you and smuggling you in will work."

"Oh, definitely," Chat agreed, nodding his head as though it was completely logical. "I know I'm in popular demand, but having your best friend obsess over me must be strange for you, right?"

She snorted. "Obsess over getting us together, more like it."

His laughter was loud. "Still?"

"Always," she confirmed. "Do you—I mean, does anyone know about us? For you?"

"No," Chat admitted, taking a sip of his drink before licking his lips. "I—it's never came around? Your friend found out by accident, while mine have never... been that, well, lucky."

Chloé had found out pretty early. It made it easier for their friendship when there weren't any secrets, and the fact that Marinette was terrible at lying meant that Chloé would butt in if she needed her to, telling someone to mind their own business instead of backing up Marinette's pathetic lie.

It was more than she could've ever asked for.

She couldn't imagine doing it for so long without no one having a clue about it.

Then again, her parents either knew and were pretending not to, or they were completely clueless to her wandering off at the times of heightened panic. It wasn't a topic they ever brought up, but she wasn't going to be the one to do it.

"You could always tell someone," she suggested. "Someone you trust."

As he adjusted to get more comfortable, their knees touched. "Maybe."

"Think you'll tell your soulmate?" she questioned, being the first to bring that up.

Chat looked surprised. "Will you?"

"I asked you first," Marinette lamely replied.

After some consideration, where he opened his mouth before closing it once more, no sound escaping, he came out with, "I'm not sure."

She swallowed. "Same."

"It's not that I don't trust her," he told her, tapping his fingers against the ground, barely making any noise. "It just—it doesn't seem like it's my secret to tell? And she'd probably want to know more, and I... I don't want to share _this_."

There was always that.

Adrien didn't seem to be the untrustworthy type, but telling him about being Ladybug seemed far too much. It would mean answering his questions about her powers, Chat, and perhaps the reason that she disappeared for an evening every fortnight.

She didn't tell Chloé everything.

"It won't change this between us," Marinette whispered. "Right?"

Gently, he placed his hand on top of hers. "Of course not."

And when he was so close, near enough for her to see that he had blond on the end of his eyelashes that matched his hair, able to see the small details in his skin and feel his breath if she was to lean closer—it was easy to accept how she felt about him.

It hadn't lessened from their time spent together.

And in that moment, the two of them sat side-by-side, only their gloved hands and knees touching, it was the happiest she'd felt in a while.

The way she'd started to feel with Adrien paled in comparison.

"Chat, I—" Marinette started, a burst of confidence spurring her on.

But before her feelings could be put into words, she sneezed.

There was barely a moment to adjust to it; no disorientation, no stumbling from suddenly being thrust into another body that was taller than her own, and certainly no rush of noise where it would feel like her ears were buzzing.

It was as though she'd blinked and the view had changed.

And, somehow, the absolute shock she was feeling was being mirrored on her own face sitting right beside her.

Marinette scooted back in surprise, as though moving a short distance apart would try and make sense of the situation at all, but she was still staring at _herself_.

Her stomach felt uncomfortable.

But it wasn't really hers, was it? It was supposed to be Adrien's—she was meant to be somewhere else, anywhere but the rooftop and wearing a skintight suit that felt like nothing at all.

Her first reaction was to laugh.

And so, she did.

Marinette laughed loudly, putting her face in her hands at one point, but when she brushed the short hair away from her eyes, reminded once more than it really wasn't her own, the laughter started to sound a little bit hysterical.

She wasn't the best at dealing with surprises.

When she calmed down a little, looking up to see Adrien—because that's who he was, really—was sat there, holding out a hand as if to comfort her, but seemed unsure about it.

It was ridiculous, shouldn't have been _possible_—

But the fact that she felt so relieved, so genuinely happy and accepting of the turn of events should've made her feel a bit guilty. Adrien by himself had been great; she liked him well enough, warmed up to his personality and enjoyed the time they spent together, but the fact that she knew that he was also one of her best friends, someone she trusted with her life completely made it so much better.

Her eyes felt hot.

But they weren't even her eyes, were they?

She'd seen Chat crying a few times, knew what it looked like, but knowing that it was her in his body was just as jarring as her first switch with him.

"So," Marinette started, blurting out what came to her mind first. "I've been in your bed."

The laugh that left him was loud. "That's what you have to say?"

Marinette didn't hate the sound of her own laugh, so that was good.

"I don't know," she replied, reaching up and running a hand through her hair, the cat ears that were stuck in them not moving in the slightest. "I—this wasn't something I ever thought would happen, if I'm being honest."

"That's an understatement," he remarked, crossing his legs and looking wholly uncomfortable with her body, going as far as to look down as he did so. "You're..."

She swallowed. "Yeah."

"I know you," Adrien whispered, ever-so-quietly, meeting her gaze. "I've... I've known you for so long, but never—never like I do now."

It was so hard to put into words.

Then, the very thing she said she'd never tell him came out. "I was disappointed it wasn't you."

But instead of reacting negatively—flinching, looking at her in shock, _anything—_it was a small smile that spread across his lips, an expression that she mostly saw in her reflection. "Me, too."

It wasn't a terrible blow.

If anything, it felt like a compliment.

Her voice cracked. "Really?"

"Yes, I—" Adrien started, readjusting how he was sitting, one hand running through his hair. "You're—it's not that I don't like you or anything? The you, I met, I mean—"

"You can just say my name," she pointed out. "I doubt anyone can hear us up here. It's—it's fine."

He let out an audible breath. "Marinette."

She smiled. "Yes?"

"I love you as Ladybug," he confessed. "And you're—you're so amazing as Marinette, but I'm... I'm finding it hard to connect the two? It's—this is too overwhelming."

It wasn't a rejection.

Her heart was beating steadily in her chest, but she was very aware of the sound of it pounding in her head.

Although she knew that his words made sense—that he was summing up how she felt, too—her face was beginning to feel hot, but the smile wasn't slipping from her lips.

She wasn't upset.

"I feel the same," she whispered.

He stared at her, a moment of silence passing where neither of them interrupted it. Adrien let out another breath, moving so one of his knees was pressed against his chest, sitting far more comfortably than he had before.

"I've liked you for so long," Marinette rambled. "So, when it was someone else and he seemed to get on so well with me, I... I got annoyed, to be honest. I was pretty peeved about how much we have in common."

His laugh was quiet. "I annoyed you that much?"

"This sounds so petty," she lamented, running a hand over her face. "But you were just so _nice_. The more our interests aligned and stuff made me resent how—how well-matched we are, I guess."

Adrien asked, "Are you trying to say this is past tense, or is it because you know who I am now?"

"Past," she told him, crossing her legs and trying to get comfortable despite the sudden difference in her body. "I—I kind of got over that when I realised that you could actually be annoying."

He laughed. "You mean I'm not perfect?"

"No," Marinette said, grinning. "And I like that."

"But you don't know if it's more than like," he replied.

"Neither do you," she reminded him, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear, staring at her hand as though it offended her when she realised that the hair was too short to do that. Then, as she caught sight of Adrien looking amused at her, she added on, "I'm nice, remember?"

He didn't look embarrassed. "You're more than nice."

"Am I?" she asked, suspicious. "Or are you saying this because I've been in your bed?"

"Only nice girls are allowed in there, you're right," he mused, going as far as to put his hand on his chin, the thoughtful pose entirely fake. "But there's also the fact that the girl I might have a crush on and one I _absolutely_ adore are the same person."

She breathed out slowly. "Can you, like, try and sneeze or something? I never wanted you to confess to me when you're—you're actually me."

With a laugh, he put his hand underneath his chin, striking a pose. "But don't I look beautiful right now?"

"Sure, but it's weird as hell," Marinette replied. "I can barely even walk straight when I'm you. Aren't you having the same problem?"

"A bit," he admitted. "But I do get to see myself, so that's always a plus."

She was tempted to push him over.

"Our food's probably cold now," Adrien pointed out, gesturing to the containers that still had the lids on. "But we could—we could somewhere else? To talk."

It wasn't past midnight, but it was later than she tended to stay up.

"If you transform back, I'll be in my pyjamas," she said.

He laughed at that. "Are they cute?"

"You're not going to find out," she shot back.

"So cruel," Adrien complained, putting a hand on his heart. "You're so, so mean to me, you know?"

There were a lot of similarities between them—him, as his different identities—and it had never occurred to her that they would've been one and the same. A lot of people had things in common, habits that were personal to them but not completely unique.

There was also the fact that there was magic that stopped people from realising it was her. Even if Marinette dressed in a Ladybug costume—not the real one—no one would look at her and think it was really her. They'd compliment her, though.

"If you sneeze, we could go back to mine," Marinette offered. "To... talk."

"I can't just sneeze on command," he lamented.

She shrugged. "We'll stay here until we swap back, then."

"That sounds safer," he commented. "Not like we'd get hurt if we fall over, but I don't think I want people to see us so... clumsy."

She hadn't thought of that.

It was with a sigh that she shifted to get more comfortable. "Okay."

"We could go back to mine instead," Adrien suggested. "We wouldn't wake Chloé up—or have her interrupt. As much as you trust her, I don't really want... her to know about this."

And that was fine. It was absolutely his decision; Chat had confessed to her before—_Adrien_ had—that he hadn't told any of his friends about his other identity, and she wasn't selfish enough to reveal it for him.

"Okay," she repeated, quiet at first. Then, she said it again, looking into his eyes as she did so.

Adrien's smile was wide.

-x-

It took close to half an hour to swap back.

The food had gotten cold, but some of it was still warm. It didn't taste awful, so they'd eaten while talking about a few casual topics, keeping it light and avoiding the most important things.

Adrien had sneezed with a mouthful of food in his mouth.

It was a little weird for Marinette to swap so suddenly when hers had been empty.

He'd laughed at her expression.

As they were more confident in their own bodies, no longer worrying about being caught on video being clumsy and generally uncomfortable-looking, Adrien showed her back to his apartment.

After waiting for a few minutes, he opened up a window for her to swing through.

She managed not to knock anything over.

He'd already changed back; eyebrows visible, hair mused and seeming more messy than it had been before, and in casual clothing that was loose and not at all what he wore to classes.

"Want to change in my bedroom?" he questioned. Then, he quickly added on, "Or, like, my bathroom? Wherever you'd feel comfortable."

She chose his bedroom.

It looked close to the same as the last time she'd seen it.

And it was the sight of it, along with Adrien's shy smile as he excused himself to make them both something to drink, that was really making it finally process with her that he really was the same person.

And wasn't that _great_?

The transformation faded her back to how she was before; hair tied up into a high ponytail, pyjamas with trousers that were too long, so she'd rolled them up at the bottom, and a lack of undergarments and socks.

Adrien was in the middle of pouring the water from the kettle when she quietly walked back into the room. As with his bedroom, the rest of his apartment seemed to lack personal photos and touched—the most she could see was a pillow on the sofa that was shaped like a video game character.

It was small, but it was something.

She cleared her throat.

He didn't jump.

When he looked up, stirring one of the drinks in the process, his smile was soft. "Hey."

"Hi." She was relieved her voice didn't crack.

"Do you—" Adrien started before cutting himself off, eyes flickering down to see the lack of pockets on her. "Do you want to borrow my phone to text Chloé?"

Despite not knowing her number, Marinette sent a message to her own phone, knowing that she'd left it in the kitchen. She'd never really bothered to bring it along to meet up with Chat—it wasn't really needed, not when there wasn't any danger of there being an attack, and because she liked to disconnect from her usual life when she was with him.

It all seemed to silly to her now.

"Thanks for that," she said, passing his phone back to him.

They'd settled down on his sofa. The kitchen was still in view, his laptop on the coffee table in front of them, and the cushion with the character's face was on her lap as she settled down to get more comfortable.

Adrien was sitting close to her, so that was always a good sign.

And she couldn't tear her eyes away from him, not when she was finally seeing all the similarities. His sclera wasn't an unnatural shade of green any more, his hair wasn't in the same style—but the shape of his nose was the same, along with the fond look that he always gave her.

She just hadn't realised that he'd been showing her that in her everyday life, too.

"So," he started, ever-so-quietly. "Hi."

She swallowed. "Hello."

"I feel—" Adrien ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the cushion. "I feel so stupid for not pushing to try and meet you before."

"We both didn't," she replied. "It was stupid, I agree."

He laughed. "If this didn't happen, would you have... asked to meet me? At all?"

"Maybe," she said. "I was—I wanted to sort out how I felt for you—like this—before I really made that decision."

Adrien squinted at her. "Really?"

"I've liked you for years, dude," Marinette bluntly confessed. "I just—I didn't want to do anything until I was really sure, you know? If you found your soulmate and wanted to be with them instead, it would've been so _weird_ between us."

He held with mug with two hands. "But now..."

"Well, that doesn't really matter now, does it?" she replied, reaching up and tightening her ponytail. It didn't make her look any more presentable, but she felt happier with it. "I kind of know who you are now."

"That's not what I meant," Adrien answered back, taking a purposeful drink as he didn't look away from her gaze. "Are you sure now?"

She wetted her lips. "How many times do you want me to say it?"

He beamed. "A few more."

But this wasn't just Adrien.

He wasn't just the boy that she'd started to get to know, that text her with far too many emojis, stayed up late playing video games and regretted it the morning after (but always telling her of what he'd accomplished in the games, especially when it was one that they both played).

He was also her best friend.

"I like you," Marinette confessed. "And if we're going to be dumb about it, then, yes, I like _like_ you. A lot."

And when she thought his smile couldn't get any bigger, it did. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yes," she confirmed, trying to lessen how shy she felt by reaching out and lightly punching him in the arm. "Stop teasing me."

He didn't spill his drink. "I'd never do that."

"It's your favourite thing to do," she shot back. "Don't give me any of that bullshit. I know you better than that."

He still had a smile on his face as he took another sip. Then, when he spoke, his voice was as soft as the way he was looking at her. "You do, don't you?"

"I really do," Marinette whispered, leaning back and pulling her knees up to her chest, far more comfortable in her own body than she'd been before. "And you know me."

Adrien let out a breath. "That's true."

And for a while, it was the two of them sat there, sipping on their drinks, sharing smiles, and stealing looks at each other, neither of them embarrassed to have been caught staring at times.

She was content not to fill the silence with needless talk, and it seemed that he thought the same.

Marinette was the one to yawn first.

Adrien asked her, "Do you want to stay over?"

"I am dressed for the occasion," she remarked. "Are you sure?"

"If you want to," he said. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

With a grin, she answered, "I don't think you could, even if you tried."

The best way to describe how she was feeling was giddy. The turn of the events was the best kind—blind-siding, sure, but the outcome was _fantastic_.

All that time of being disappointed that Chat wasn't the one that she was matched with, only for him to really be Adrien?

She wanted to cry, in the best of ways.

She knew what it was like to be him, even; from his tall body, the long limbs feeling completely out of place, even to how his ears felt hot when he got embarrassed. Marinette had experienced that a few times, never quite realising that it was actually her best friend's body, the person she trusted the most—

And after five years, he was asking whether she wanted to sleepover?

Marinette almost laughed.

"I can sleep out here," he started to say.

"Your bed's big enough, isn't it?" she cut in.

He blinked.

"For us," she clarified, not embarrassed in the slightest. "What? You didn't think I'd kick you out and steal your bed, did you?"

"...A bit."

She snorted. "You are comfortable sharing a bed with me, right?"

"Maybe." Adrien reached up to touch his neck. "You're... are you sure you're okay with that?"

She didn't hesitate to ask, "Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh," he breathed.

For good measure, she used Adrien's phone to send Chloé another message, saying that she was spending the night at Adrien's. There wasn't a reply, of course, but she was hoping that her friend would be nosy enough to check her phone's notifications in the morning when it was in clear sight in the living room.

When it came time for them to wander into his bedroom—after he confirmed, again, that she really was comfortable with staying—he even asked whether she had a preference for what side to sleep on.

He kept his clothes on, and it was definitely more than what he'd been wearing when they'd swapped bodies before. She wasn't going to call him out for that, though.

Adrien almost tripped over when he'd turned off the light, trying to find his way back to the bed.

And when she laughed, he exclaimed, "Don't laugh at me!"

"It was lovingly," she defended.

He climbed into the bed, underneath the covers and moving closer, making it so they were facing each other. It was dark, but she could faintly make out his face.

"Hi," he whispered.

He was close, so very close, enough that she didn't even have to stretch her arm out to touch him. She'd never imagined that she'd see him so intimately, to see the blemishes in his skin, or his breath as he shuffled nearer, trying to get comfortable.

With a surge of courage, spurred on by the happiness she was feeling, Marinette reached out and clumsily took his hand into her own. "Hey."

He linked their fingers together. "You're here."

"I am," she confirmed with a smile she wasn't quite sure he could see. "But not in the pyjamas you bought me, I'm afraid."

His laugh was quiet. "Maybe next time."

"We'll see how this goes first," she teased.

It wasn't that she was nervous. There was nothing to be shy about—she trusted him completely, but it was a foreign bed that she'd never slept in before, along with the excitement she was feeling still very much present, keeping her awake.

She was just so happy.

She had to wonder whether he felt the same.

He hadn't let go of her hand.

Marinette adjusted her grip, settling down into a new position and scooting forward a little, her knee hitting him in the process. Adrien let out a laugh at that, asking whether she was ever going to stop fidgeting, and she didn't dignify that with an answer.

It was insane to think that only a few hours, she'd only been expecting to have dinner with her best friend.

She shifted again, making it so her elbow wasn't digging into her side any more.

"You're terrible," Adrien complained.

"Your bed's the terrible one," she shot back, making a point to adjust the pillow.

He sniffed. "You had no complaints the last time."

"Last time I was you," Marinette replied. "Clearly, you've got low standards."

"That's not how that works," he said.

She tried to sound offended as she retorted, "It is if I want it to be."

"Plus, if I've got low standards, doesn't that mean you're insulting yourself?" he mused.

Marinette almost laughed. "No, I'm amazing."

"Oh, yes," he agreed, his thumb tracing soft patterns into her hand. "I'm quite aware of that."

And when she shifted again, her legs coming into contact with his, she didn't move away. "Are you?"

"How could I not?" Adrien relied. "You've kind of invaded my life. Everywhere I look, you're there."

With amusement clear in her voice, she asked, "Have you bought any of my merchandise, then?"

"Have you bought mine?" he questioned.

"Chloé got me some," Marinette admitted, voice shaking with her laughter. "She's—she's always given me stuff like that, ever since she found out."

He let out a laugh. "She's going to try and burn it when she finds out who I am, right?"

"No, no," she assured him. "She'll get over that. Chloé's just bad at sharing."

"I shouldn't have to share you," he said, sounding a bit petulant. "You're my soulmate."

"Yeah," Marinette agreed, squeezing his hand gently. "But that's not all I am."

His answer was soft. "That's true."

There was so much that she wanted to tell him—to correct the nicknames she'd given her friends in the past when talking to him, to clarify some situations now that there wasn't any secrets between them—but she didn't know where to start. She felt too awake to sleep, but she didn't know whether he felt the same way.

The fact that she could feel his legs against hers was more than she thought she would've ever got.

"Hey," she whispered, knowing that he was awake from him still tracing patterns lazily onto her hand. "Are you tired?"

"A bit," he replied, honest. "I'm—a bit too... I don't know. I don't think I can sleep right now, though."

She let out a breath of amusement. "Why are we here, then?"

"You were yawning," Adrien pointed out. "I was being considerate."

"I'm too excited to sleep," she confessed.

It was her wording that he chose to latch onto. "Excited, eh?"

"Shut up," she retorted. "You know what I mean."

"No, no," Adrien denied, holding back his laughter as he gave her hand a squeeze. "Go on and tell me all about how I make you excited. I'd _love_ to hear."

But it was things like that that had only been said when they'd been masked. Adrien had gotten more comfortable with her, of course, but they'd been skirting on the boundaries of friendship, trying to gauge how they felt about each other, but with Chat—

It had always been very clear.

And to hear it when he was beside her in such a private setting?

Marinette was so happy.

Pressing her cheek into the pillow, she was grinning widely.

"I'm waiting," he announced.

There were so many things she could've done, could've said, but it was with confidence that she proposed, "I could show you instead."

And when he replied, the question was very clear in his voice. "Sure?"

She leaned forward, giving him all the time to pull back, to reject her advances, but he stayed where he was when their noses touched at first. Marinette could feel his breath as she let go of his hand, instead raising it to gently cup his face, fingers running through his hair to give her a clear sense of where he was in the darkness.

He was the one to kiss her first.

Marinette could feel his smile.

It was slow at first—tentative, shy—but it felt so nice. Adrien had moved to wrap an arm around her waist loosely, not pulling her close until they were chest-to-chest, but his fingers had slipped beneath the fabric, touching her bare skin and staying there, clearly content with the action.

The best way to describe it was awkward, but sweet. There was a bit of fumbling from the darkness, especially when Adrien tried to sit up and change their position, resulting in the two of them knocking teeth for a moment, but they both laughed, neither embarrassed from the change.

The beating of her heart wasn't nerves; her hands weren't clammy from worrying about messing up, and she wasn't wondering whether he was going to expect too much from the fact that they were in his bed at such a late hour.

She trusted him.

And that was all that was important, wasn't it?

She was the one to gently bite his lower lip, to deepen their kiss and make it more intimate. Her hand was still in his hair, feeling the soft tresses in her fingers, and she didn't jump as his went further up her back, touching the exposed skin and sure to notice her distinct lack of undergarments, if he'd missed it earlier.

It took a bit of manoeuvring, indicating what she wanted with actions instead of words as she didn't want to stop kissing him, but she managed to make it clear that she wanted him to sit up.

Then, unceremoniously, she straddled him, arms around his neck as they continued to kiss, his settling back down on her waist, not quite as loose as before.

His hands slipped lower that time.

She didn't protest.

Rather, Marinette shifted to get a bit closer to him, able to feel when she was brushing against his arousal in the process, intentionally sitting down there, pleased with the noise of surprise that left him.

The duvet had been pushed down, no longer on either of them, but it wasn't that chilly with the heating on.

The kiss was getting more intimate, no longer the slow-paced and shy one from before, but it wasn't lust-filled and driven by expectations. It was more exploring—the brief kisses she'd had in the past had never been quite like that, and there was something about it being Adrien—_Chat—_that made it so much more than the others.

His hands slipped down to her backside, caressing her through her clothing, and she had no complaints about it.

Instead, Marinette urged him on, shifting her hips and pressing further into him, a slight bit of friction being created. Adrien purposely squeezed, touching her with less hesitance, before helping her with her movements, a slow and infrequent rhythm as she continued to rub against him.

The room started to feel hotter.

Her breaths were coming fast, the rapid beating of her heart prominent in the pulse between her legs, the warm feeling in her stomach building with every movement—

And when they broke their kiss, Marinette could only just make out his features. She couldn't see whether he was blushing, couldn't clearly see his expression, but she could feel him.

She rocked her hips into him.

Adrien sucked in a sharp breath.

She kissed him again.

And instead of looping her arms around his neck again, she let one of her hands wander, running down his chest until she reached the end of his shirt, dipping beneath to feel the bare skin there.

As he deepened the kiss again, Marinette shuffled back a bit, making it so she could put her hand past the waistband of his clothing without trouble, only pausing for a moment to see his reaction.

There wasn't any rejection; rather, Adrien continued to kiss her, his hands holding onto her hips.

She grasped him lightly in her hand, feeling the warmth of his skin, fumbling only a little bit. The position wasn't so awkward, and it was the pleased noises that escaped him that spurred her on at all.

With the waistband of his underwear pressing against her hand, trying to snap back into place, she slowly moved her hand to pump him, confidence building with every passing moment.

And as they stopped kissing with Adrien pulling away, he let out an audible breath and pressed his face into her neck, placing soft kisses there instead. Marinette tilted her head, glad that most of her hair was tied back to allow clear access to her skin, and the sensation she felt as he sucked with only the smallest amount of pressure was wonderful.

The sound of their mingled breaths filled the room.

She was sure that she'd have a mark on her neck, that it was something she'd seen immature teenagers show off about—but she didn't really mind.

At that moment, she would've let Adrien do what he wanted.

Her movements were clumsy, grip faltering and wrist growing tired a few times, so she did shuffle and swap to her other hand, only to find out that she was even worse with her non-dominant one.

Adrien laughed at that.

"Shut up," she spluttered, not offended in the slightest. "I'd like to see you try."

He nipped her neck. "Are you saying you'd want to watch?"

"Maybe." And, as if to make a point, she squeezed her hand around him. "But you'd probably be into that, wouldn't you?"

"I'd like to be into you—"

Marinette pushed him so he fell back onto the mattress, a startled laugh escaping him.

She crossed her arms.

"Marinette!" he said through his laughter. "Don't be so _cruel_—"

"You're a lot more attractive when you're quiet," she muttered.

And as she was still sat on top of him, she could feel it as he laughed. "You don't appreciate me enough."

"I think I do too much," she retorted. "You don't deserve all this love, clearly."

"Oh, bug," he said with a sigh, hands settling down on her hips again. "Are you saying you love me?"

She huffed. "No."

"I think you are," Adrien replied, fingertips trailing along the waistband of her bottoms. "Why else would you be here with me right now?"

"Pity," she responded.

He snickered. "You touched my dick out of pity?"

"And I'll do it again," Marinette declared, somehow managing not to laugh aloud.

Adrien asked, "Is that a threat?"

"It could be," she said, shifting to get more comfortable, letting her hands fall down to touch his stomach where his shirt had been pushed up. And when he didn't protest, she trailed her fingers down, skimming over his waistband once more. "You want to try your luck?"

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, "Anything for you."

It was spur of the moment.

Marinette moved back, no longer sitting with a thigh on either side of him, choosing to settle on the side where she'd been originally as she scooted down the duvet. She pushed the duvet back some more, until it must've been falling off the bed at the bottom, before clumsily reaching for his waistband to pull his underwear down.

Indulging her, Adrien lifted his hips, making it all that much easier for her to tug his clothing down, running her hands over the exposed skin in admiration.

And although she fumbled to grasp his arousal once more with the lack of lighting, Adrien didn't make fun of her. If anything, he shuffled and tried to make it easier, even using his feet to push the duvet down further.

It fell down to the floor.

Marinette leaned down, tucking the stray hairs that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear, pressing her lips to the tip of his arousal, opening her mouth before taking him in, testing to see how comfortable she was with it.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

And in return, she pulled back a little before repeating the action, trying to find an angle that wasn't inconvenient.

The noises that he made in return were more than worth it.

She continued, creating an inconsistent rhythm as she bobbed her head, sometimes pulling back to swallow, placing a kiss on the end before returning to what she was doing before. It got less clumsy the longer she went on, and there was nothing but positive reactions from Adrien—so, clearly, she wasn't that terrible.

Adrien gasped out a strangled, "Wait."

Curious, Marinette sat up, using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth.

"Sorry," he rasped. "I—I didn't want to... you know."

She had to let out a laugh at that. "Don't they say don't do it if you can't say it?"

"I'll kick you," Adrien threatened. "I'm in prime kicking position, ready to strike."

With a light pinch to the exposed skin of his thigh, she remarked, "Kinky."

"I'm being bullied," he complained.

"Are blowjobs called that now?" she mused. "I'm not, like, down with the kids or anything, so I'm not up-to-date with the lingo."

"Marinette, the words you're using are complete turn offs," he told her.

Purposely, she took ahold of his arousal once more, gently squeezing the base before sliding her hand up and down once. "Are you sure about that?"

"Oh," he choked out. "That's how it is."

"Maybe," she replied, drawing out the first vowel.

It was silly, such a ridiculous thing to be joking about, but she was smiling widely, enjoying every moment. Even when they were being so close and intimate, she wasn't worried about doing things wrong—didn't care that she fumbled, glad to be able to laugh and joke with him, not regretting their actions in the slightest.

She really, really liked him.

So, of course, something had happen.

One moment she was there, stroking him gently, waiting for what she was expecting to be a funny response, only for everything to shift in a blink of an eye.

It wasn't her hand that was touching him any more.

Marinette scrambled back, a strangled noise escaping her at first, and she managed to knock her head against the headboard. And as she put her hand to the back of her head—feeling the hair that was no longer in a ponytail, never had been—she was very aware that her limbs were longer than normal.

"Oh," Adrien said, but it wasn't his own voice. "You're—"

There was still a prominent feeling of her pulse between her legs, but it felt too—too strange, too foreign and not her own.

"I hate everything," she said thickly.

His laugh was loud. "That's an understatement."

"This—this is so weird," Marinette started, awkwardly reaching down to pull his clothing back on, feeling far too out of place in his body.

"Agreed," he said. "This feels really, really weird."

"I've never wanted to be you before," she stated. "And I never want to again."

To her relief, he pulled the duvet up from the floor, putting it back over the two of them. He settled down beside her, bumping into her a little in the process, clearly a bit lost from the darkness and the new body.

To break the silence, Adrien announced, "You're kind of wet."

"I will murder you," she retorted. "I will. Don't tempt me, Adrien."

Amusement was clear in his voice. "...It feels weird."

"That's it," Marinette said, rolling over onto her front, pressing her face into the pillow. "I'm going to suffocate now. Bye."

Adrien patted the back of her head. "Sorry to disturb your misery, but should I go wipe it or—"

Her face was burning.

-x-

It took until the next morning to swap back.

All they'd done was sleep, but Marinette came out with the experience of knowing what it felt like for her ears to grow hot when she was embarrassed.

When she left, it was with messy hair and in borrowed clothes so she wouldn't have to wear her pyjamas back.

Adrien had pulled her into a tight hug.

She'd returned it without hesitation.

He had offered for her to use his shower, but Marinette wanted to get home first. She had the supplies she'd taken to the rooftop in the first place, along with the gift he'd given her, and he'd been kind enough to let her use one of his bags to transport it all back safely.

Along with the forgotten phone, she'd left her wallet back at home, too.

She couldn't butter Chloé up with a hot drink.

Chloé was still in bed when she walked through the door.

And instead of dealing with that immediately, Marinette was productive instead. She retrieved her phone from the coffee table—where the read symbol meant that the messages had been seen in the first place—to text Adrien to say that she made it back okay before showering.

By the time she was out and into her own bedroom, Chloé was still asleep.

Adrien continued to text her.

His absurd amount of emojis hadn't changed, but her reaction to them had.

She was ever-so-fond of him, even more so after the night before.

It was some hours later that Chloé strolled into her room, eyes half-lidded from sleep and hair messier than she would've ever allowed it to be outside of their flat.

"Hey, slut," was the greeting she got.

Marinette snorted. "Really?"

"Well, you did spend last night with two different men," Chloé snootily pointed out, sitting down on the edge of Marinette's bed and putting one thigh primly on top of the other. "I'm assuming it when well since you stayed over there? Thanks for that, by the way. I was finally able to sleep peacefully without you."

But rather than addressing the first part, she said, "It was great until we swapped bodies when I was sucking his dick."

The only way to describe Chloé's laugh was a cackle. "_Really_?"

There was a bit of embellishing in the story, but she was able to see the humour in it. It had been funny at the time when she'd calmed down—and was dressed—but the reactions it caused from her friend were even better.

Adrien wasn't going to get that experience.

"I didn't tell anyone," he said, voice sounding a bit distant over the phone. "I—it seemed too personal."

She winced. "Yeah, I guess."

He didn't sound offended that Chloé had been told, though. "No boundaries for you two, eh?"

"Other than things that aren't mine to tell," she replied. "That secret's safe."

"For now," he agreed. Then, when she'd been expecting the subject to change, he whispered, "We could fuck with her, though."

Intrigued, all she could say was, "Oh?"

"Oh, yes," Adrien answered back, just as hushed as before. Even if Chloé could hear her from the other room, there was no chance that she'd hear him. "She wants you to invite me over to hang out, right? As Chat Noir, I mean."

She let out a laugh. "Absolutely not."

"It would be funny—"

"No, not happening," she quickly said, shutting down that idea. "As funny as that sounds, I already told her about sucking your dick, remember?"

"So?" Adrien's amusement was clear in his voice. "It'll just be like a friend visiting. Get your head out of the gutter, Marinette. Nothing scandalous has to happen."

She sniffed. "Anything involving you is a scandal."

"Are you flirting with me?" he asked. "Because I think you might need to work on it. I was almost offended for a second there."

"I'll make you cry sometime," she muttered.

Adrien replied, "Save that for the bedroom, please."

She hung up on him.

He sent her a string of crying emojis.

It was nice to know that nothing had changed for the worst. If anything, she was even more excited when his name popped up on the screen of her phone, happy to see his messages, even if it was a picture of his foot, showing he had a hole in his sock.

Adrien hadn't really changed.

And wasn't that _great_?

If he'd done a complete one-eighty, if his personality had changed in the moment when she'd realised who he was, she probably wouldn't have reacted the same way. But coming to understand that they were the same person—that it was Chat Noir that infuriated her by tapping his nails against any surface when they were together—made it all that more better.

She liked being able to see the similarities between them.

It also meant that she'd pushed Adrien countless times off of a building when he was annoying her over the years.

That was a little weird to come to terms with.

When they saw each other for lunch between classes, the first time face-to-face since she'd left his apartment, she'd almost been worried about how she was supposed to greet him.

Adrien had stood up from his seat, almost hitting his knee in the process, and smiled widely as he waved to flag her down.

She was smiling back in an instant.

"Hi," he said softly.

Marinette came to stand in front of him. "Hi, you."

After what seemed to be a moment of hesitation, he blurted, "Can I kiss you?"

She blinked.

Then, her smile grew. "Yeah, of course."

And due to their height difference, he had to lean down. It was brief, not as intense as it had been before—but they were in public.

His smile reached his eyes when he pulled back.

She cleared her throat. "I actually had breakfast today, so I probably won't get anything."

"You can always steal some of mine, if you want," he offered.

And she knew that he wasn't just saying that to be nice.

She settled with only a drink.

While he didn't have classes for the rest of the day, Marinette had one later on in the afternoon. It was the routine that they'd settled on before—trying to squeeze in time together whenever they could, outside of trekking across the city in the cold—but there was something different about it when he was sat across from her, their knees touching beneath the table.

They were surrounded by people chattering, a lot of noise, but she happy with it.

"So," she started. "I'm going to get you another birthday present soon, and you can't complain about it."

He raised his eyebrows. "I'll complain all I want, thank you."

"No, you won't," she said. "You love me too much for that."

Adrien looked at her dubiously, going as far as to chew his mouthful slowly being swallowing. "I don't know about that."

"I know when your actual birthday is now," Marinette stated, holding up her hand and raising one finger along with her words. "And where you live, and Nino and Alya have both offered to tell me all the embarrassing things from your childhood."

"Okay, so you can stalk me," he remarked. "Bold of you to assume I don't enjoy that."

"I know you love attention," she replied, waving her hand dismissively.

He batted his eyelashes. "Only if it's from you."

"You literally do interviews if anyone flags you down," she bluntly responded.

"I'm the social butterfly of us two," Adrien remarked, not embarrassed in the slightest. "I'm good with people. You're good at—well, abusing me, I guess."

She squinted. "You guess? I'm clearly not very good if you're having second thoughts."

"I'll get back to you with my final answer," he stated, reaching up to brush his hair away from his face. "I hope you'll wait patiently for it."

"You're the impatient one here," Marinette said, taking a sip of her drink as she took in how dramatically offended he made himself appear to be. "There's literally thousands of video evidence I can show you to prove my point, too."

He huffed. "That's just unfair."

"...That I have proof?"

"Yes," Adrien confirmed, nodding his head. "I came here to flirt with you, not be attacked."

She laughed. "Maybe I'm just not good at flirting?"

"Clearly," he agreed. "Would you like me to show you some tips?"

"I don't know," she said, lightly tapping her foot against his under the table. "I'm not sure you're capable of doing that."

Adrien muttered, "That's not what you were saying the other night."

She kicked him harder under the table.

The gasp of pain he let out was exaggerated. "Marinette!"

"You deserved it," she stated, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "Besides, we're never doing that again until this whole sneezing thing is gone."

"Pussy," he teased.

"It was weird!" Marinette said, going as far as to shake her head along with her words. "I—that's not how I wanted to feel that, you know? And if it happened in another way, I—it's _really_ not what I want to experience."

He reluctantly agreed, "You do have a good point."

"I'm actually terrified." She held the drink in both of her hands, the warmth nice against her skin. "What if we swap while I'm in the shower?"

His answer to that was, "You can take some pictures and send them to yourself."

"...I can't tell if you're serious or not."

Adrien winked.

She breathed out audibly. "Okay, I'm not _that_ scared."

"It is a terrifying thought, though," he mused. "I read a few horror stories online when we—we found each other first. There's a few that swapped during sex, and that sounds... awful."

She pulled a face. "No, thank you."

"I can second that," he said. "As much as I love myself, I wouldn't go that far."

She joked, "Chloé might."

He laughed.

They spent a lot more time together—outside of classes, with either of them going to each other's home (to Chloé's chagrin), or hanging out with friends.

The sudden shift in their relationship wasn't lost, but no one made a big deal out of it. When Adrien kissed her in front of Nino the first time, Nino's reaction had been to reach out and punch him in the arm, not saying a word.

Alya had clapped.

Chloé had threatened them.

The reactions were pretty similar.

It didn't hit her for a few days that there wouldn't be any more rooftop meetings, but Adrien had proposed that they could still meet up for their bi-weekly dinners, just somewhere where it was warmer due to the incoming winter weather.

She wasn't going to reject that.

Still, it was fun to go out with him when there wasn't an akuma, when there was no threat so they could jump higher than they normally could, though they'd gone late at night, wanting to avoid panicking the public if they'd been spotted.

With Chloé still bitter that she had yet to meet her soulmate, Adrien had suggested that Marinette put a stamp of some sort beside her while she was sleeping, just so Chloé would roll onto it for the ink to imprint on her skin.

"Surely it'll work as she didn't do it intentionally, right?" was his explanation.

They didn't try it.

Chloé wasn't as rude as usual when she told him to fuck off, though.

There was no telling how long it would take for her sneezing to stop swapping them. Marinette was lucky that when she'd turned eighteen, her cold was just leaving, so she didn't put the two of them through too much trouble.

There wasn't a lot of research to go by.

"I don't mind," he assured her.

She pursed her lips. "Are you sure?"

"I like spending time with you," Adrien said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You're pretty cool."

She huffed. "I'm more than that, thank you."

"But only cool girls are allowed in my bed," he reminded her.

Marinette was more than tempted to push him away. "Being better than cool still qualifies me access."

He hummed. "Does it?"

"It does," she insisted. "Unless you want me to sniff pepper when I have bad period cramps."

"...Please, don't."

She really, really liked him.

As long as she didn't have to experience what an erection felt like again, she was happy with what they had.


End file.
